


The Green Wanderer

by TykTrope



Series: Legatum [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cyclops - Freeform, Draconic Humanoid, Drama, Fantasy, Gen, Goblins, Lizard Folk, Orc, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 18:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TykTrope/pseuds/TykTrope
Summary: A former orc soldier travels around the country encountering different individuals from different backgrounds as he tries to atone for the sins he committed in the past.





	1. Wagon

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Been a long-ass time since I've submitted something here. Time to rectify that! :D
> 
> Anyway, once again I'm reposting a story on Fictionpress over here. This story is an entry in my fantasy series known as the _Legatum_ series. And while this isn't chronologically the first story in the series, anyone can read this story, and the subsequent ones, in any order they so choose, since this series is more or less an anthology taking place in the same universe.
> 
> Not sure when I'll post future _Legatum_ stories here, but hopefully sooner than later. And since this site seems a bit more accepting of explicit material, I may or may not post stories specifically for this site only, depending on the subject matter. ;)
> 
> Anyway, with all that out the way, enjoy the story. :)

_They were all prepared. They knew all the risks, knew all the rewards. But none of it mattered. What mattered was that blood would be shed today. And blood would be shed tomorrow. And it would continue to shed until the end of time, long after the king died. The dark green orc panted and huffed, slobber running down his mouth as nearly a hundred other orcs standing behind him reacted the same. All of them carried their axes, hammers, and broadswords with pride. All of them were clad in armor and helmets—not that many of them would need it. And all of them were being observed by the colossal behemoth of an orc overlooking the entire platoon. He stood at the gates of his kingdom, grinning wickedly to himself. Without saying a word or uttering a command, the king raised his burly arm and pointed outside the gate, to the surrounding nations. All the orcs raised a fist and roared triumphantly, before they all charged forward. It didn’t matter where they were going. It didn’t matter who the targets were._

_Blood would be shed._

__________________________________________

He opened his eyes slowly, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen this morning. As the orc grumbled and shifted around in the cave, he gradually opened his eyes some more, not caring about the sleep caught in his eyelashes. The orc looked to his left and could see that it was a bright, but cloudy day, and the ground was damp. The air still smelled heavily of rain; the orc regretted not staying outside and using the weather as a means to wash his clothes. After wiping his mouth, the orc yawned, showing off his massive teeth and the various tusks that hung outside his mouth, even when it was closed. The burly beast looked down at his ripped brown trousers, his heavy wool boots and his black tunic that had no sleeves on it. Then he grunted as he stood up, feeling every bone in his body creaking like a set of gears in desperate need of more oil.

“Fuck,” the orc murmured.

After standing up, the beast coughed several times before spitting on the cave floor. He looked at his saliva and phlegm before raising his left arm and glaring at his veins. Then the orc exhaled, shortly before he reached down, picked up his double-headed axe, and double-checked to make sure he still had his dagger in its holster.

“You got time, Marrox,” the green orc muttered. “You got time.”

Marrox exited the cave and jumped onto the wet grassy terrain outside. He took a huge breath, savoring the pleasant-scented air around him compared to the wet odor that had filled the cave. Then he started to walk forward, not set on any exact path, not looking for any particular landmark. He moved his way past all the thorny bushes, stepping through or around them and crushing various roots and twigs with his boots. Wiping his nose, Marrox sniffled and heard a few birds chirping above him. He was tempted to sit back down just so he could enjoy the serenity around him. But his body kept moving forward, and his brain kept telling him that he needed to find her sooner than later. Marrox coughed a few more times before he reached into his tunic and pulled out a large brown canteen. Marrox grunted as he drank from the container, only to notice after a few seconds that there was no more water inside of the canteen. He flared his nostrils and set the cap back on before the orc grunted and made a detour on his route.

Instead of heading forward like he intended, he turned to his left, where he resumed stomping through the wet earth and shoving his way past all of the shrubs and patches of fungi growing near tree roots. He paused for a moment so he could urinate on a tree, but continued walking shortly afterwards, until he came across a small stream. The orc stared at the rushing water as it quietly splashed against the rocks and soil. Then Marrox got on his knees and exhaled as he took out his empty canteen and placed it near the water. He was just about to refill his container when he looked down the river and saw something. He knew what it was. He knew why it was there. And in a matter of seconds, all the memories came back. Marrox took three slow breaths, his heart beating faster than normal, his pulse racing. The green-skinned beast emitted a faint whimpering noise as he kept looking at the river. It was all still there. Hot breath exploded from the orc’s mouth for a moment, but then he set his canteen down, clutched his chest with his meaty right hand, and shut his eyes.

Afterwards, Marrox inhaled sharply with his nostrils, his chest inflating as he took in the air. Then he exhaled from his mouth, letting all the stress flow from his body. He did it a second time, inhaling and exhaling, telling himself that he would be fine. And then he exhaled sharply afterwards. He kept up this breathing pattern for a solid four minutes before he slowly opened his eyes. He looked at the stream again, and everything was back to normal. Satisfied that he was safe again, Marrox calmly refilled his canteen before he closed it and put it back into his tunic. Then the orc stood up and resumed his journey, hoping that he wouldn’t have to stop again like he did just now.

__________________________________________

The moment Marrox spotted the horse-drawn carriage out in the middle of the road, he jogged out onto the gravel-paved road and stood in front of the two horses. The drivers shouted and immediately tugged on the reins, forcing the horses to neigh as they stopped moving and snorted a few times. He could tell that the horses were afraid of him, judging by how both of them were gradually moving a few of their hooves backwards instead of forwards. But the drivers calmed them down, before one of them looked at Marrox and glared.

“Hey, get outta the road, orc!” the human shouted. “Almost ran ya over just now!”

“My apologies,” Marrox said. “I was, uh…well I’ve been traveling on foot for a while now. Was curious to see if you would give me a ride to your destination.”

“You don’t even know where we’re goin’.”

Marrox chuckled. “I don’t either. Just…just walkin’. Been lookin’ for someone, but not sure I’ll find her at this point.”

“All due respect,” started the other driver, “we’re not exactly comfortable letting you in our wagon with that axe of yours.”

“Hmm? Oh yes, this,” Marrox said, before he lifted his axe and swung it around a few times through the air. “Yes, indeed. I would also feel nervous if you antagonized a beast who used an axe of this caliber to decapitate dozens of you humans.”

Marrox didn’t say anything else. He just stared at the humans with a smug grin on his face, while both of the men glanced at each other with hesitation. The first driver wiped his nose before coughing awkwardly.

“You…you promise you won’t cause trouble?”

“No trouble.”

“Fine…just get on and don’t bother the others.”

Marrox nodded, and he walked over to the back of the wagon. He grunted as he climbed inside, his rough hands grasping the splintered wood, and then stood up as he looked around. Some other humans were inside—a couple families in casual wear from what he surmised—and there was a few crates placed near the front of the wagon. Marrox didn’t say a word; most of the humans reacted the same way anyone would if a burly, green beast abruptly jumped into a vehicle carrying a double-headed axe. So the orc just smiled awkwardly before he sat down near the opening, far away from the other humans. Afterwards, the human drivers resumed their journey, and Marrox made sure to keep to himself as the rest of the humans inside whispered or tried to ignore his presence. A young boy actually waddled his way over to Marrox and nearly touched his axe, but his mother immediately grabbed him and snatched him away. He flicked his eyes at her but remained silent; he wasn’t surprised by that kind of treatment from humans. The orc looked outside the wagon, gazing at the wide-open road and the scenery around him as the wagon moved along the gravel path.

It wasn’t until nearly an hour later when the wagon came to an abrupt stop. Marrox was on the verge of passing out when he heard the horses neighing once again. Only this time around, incoherent screaming followed. Some of the people inside of the wagon immediately went on alert. One man pulled out his dagger while the mother of two kids immediately told them to hide behind her, while she shielded them with her body. Marrox stood up and grabbed his axe as he held up a hand, instructing everyone to stay put.

“Just sit tight. I’m gonna check and see—”

“DOWN! EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

Some of the people in the wagon screamed while others raised their hands. Before Marrox had time to exit the vehicle, three goblins all sprinted towards the opening, all armed with either a crossbow or a bow and arrow. Marrox looked down at the goblins, glaring at their short three-foot-tall bodies and their giant pointy ears and warty long noses. One of the goblins clad in a wool cloak panted as he pointed his crossbow at Marrox’s face.

“I SAID DOWN, ORC!”

Marrox blinked. He slowly sat down inside the wagon while everyone else stayed still and began to whimper. After Marrox submitted, a fourth goblin appeared from the front, only this beast was carrying two sticks of explosives with him and cackling to himself. He hopped inside the wagon holding a stick of dynamite in each hand and grinned widely. Meanwhile, the other three goblins climbed inside, and the man with a dagger made his move. The goblin carrying the crossbow was much quicker though, and he fired a bolt into his shoulder. The man shouted and dropped his dagger, while the goblin quickly cocked his weapon again.

“NO TRICKS! UNNERSTAND?!” another goblin shouted.

Everyone nodded or kept their hands in the air. Marrox merely squinted as he looked at the dynamite sticks the reddish-orange goblin was holding.

“Y’all see, yeah? Y’all see what this is?” the goblin paused to giggle. “This go BOOM! This make BIG, BIG BOOMS! Y’all wanna go boom? Huh? You wanna go boom?”

Everyone, predictably, shook their heads or whimpered.

“THEN MONEY! COINS! Give it all ‘ere or you go boom!”

Marrox squinted as he looked at the explosives even closer, and he snorted. “Where’s the fuse?” Marrox asked.

The reddish-orange goblin snorted as he looked at Marrox. “Whuh?”

“That’s volatile dynamite. Where’s the fuse? Don’t you wanna—”

One of the goblins carrying a crossbow whacked him across the face with his weapon.

“SHUT UP! AND DON’T REACH FOR THAT AXE! I’M SMARTER THAN YOU, ORC!”

 _No, you’re not_ , Marrox said inwardly. 

“RICHES! NOW!”

Marrox knew what would happen next. He’d seen it several times before. All the humans tossed any of their valuables onto the floor, not even attempting to bargain with the beasts given how unhinged all of them were. The goblin carrying his explosives walked over to some of the bags and opened them up, revealing bags of silver, gold, or copper. 

“Oooooooooh, yes…shiny! Yes, yes, all so shiny…”

As the goblin looked through the valuables, a dark green goblin with a gray beard glanced at the woman who was shielding her children behind her and approached her. The other two goblins glared at him and huffed.  
“Not today, Lurrgad! We need to move!” shouted the goblin aiming his crossbow at Marrox’s throat.

But Lurrgad ignored his companion, and he proceeded towards the woman. He growled softly as he started to drool, shortly before he pressed his oversized nose all over her body, sniffing at her clothing and hair.

“You smell nice, human,” he growled.

“Lurrgad. Not _now_!”

The goblin holding the explosives set the dynamite back into his pockets and picked up various bags of coin with both hands. “We got the shinies now, Lurrgad! Time to leave!”

Lurrgad shook his head as he leaned against the woman’s face, still drooling. “Gimme a kiss…it’s so lonely out there. Been a while since I’ve actually touched another woman’s lips.”

Lurrgad puckered up his lips and emitted a comical smacking sound, prompting the woman to slap him. He shouted and shook his head, and promptly retaliated by throwing his entire body onto the woman. Marrox rolled his eyes as the goblin started salivating and sloppily kissing the mother of two, while the rest of the people in the wagon were gradually looking for an opening to either escape or subdue the assailants. As Marrox put his hands down, the goblin aiming his crossbow at his throat lowered it and huffed as he looked at Lurrgad.

“THAT’S ENOUGH! You don’t need to always—”

It happened before anyone could comprehend it. Marrox grabbed the goblin’s right arm and snapped it with no effort. Everyone heard one of the bones cracking as it bent awkwardly, the bone sticking outwards and on the verge of poking through the skin. As the goblin started to scream, Marrox kicked him out the wagon and grabbed his crossbow. Simultaneously, one of the humans lunged for the goblin carrying a bow and arrow and immediately grabbed the fallen dagger on the floor. She sliced through arrow before it could be fired, then picked up half of the thin wood, before shouting and jamming it into the goblin’s left eye. 

“OW! OH MY GODS!”

He tumbled backwards out of the wagon, screaming hysterically as he clutched his bleeding maimed eye. The leader of the goblins could see that everything was falling apart, while Lurrgad finally stopped kissing the woman and turned around. He had just enough time to see Marrox wielding the crossbow. And then the orc fired at the goblin’s groin. Unsurprisingly, he started hollering like his two dim-witted partners in crime. Marrox didn’t give the beast a chance to get back up. He grabbed his tiny body and hurled him outside, where he landed face down, sending the arrow even further into his crotch. 

“STOP!” the final goblin shrieked.

Marrox set the crossbow down when he noticed that the final goblin was wielding his explosives. He exhaled and shook his head.

“What are you doing?”

“GIMME MY SHINIES! OR I’LL MAKE US _ALL_ GO BOOM! I’LL-I’LL DO IT! DON’T YOU TRY ME, ORC!”

Marrox blinked and looked at the explosives. “You mean you’re gonna blow us up with those sticks in your hands?”

“THAT’S RIGHT! One hard whack against the floor, and we all—”

Marrox snatched one of the sticks of dynamite from the goblin. And then he broke it in half, and dropped it on the floor.

“These are candles that you dyed red.”

Silence. The goblin had nothing to say, and even the people inside the wagon seemed a bit annoyed at how easily they were fooled by the goblin’s threat. The final goblin dropped his other stick of “dynamite” and chuckled nervously. 

“Look…may-maybe we—”

Marrox punched the goblin in the face. Hard. He collapsed to the floor and didn’t get up again. Shaking his head, Marrox grabbed the unconscious goblin and tossed him outside, shortly before picking up his axe. Afterwards, all of the people inside of the wagon calmed down and lowered their hands. The orc jumped outside the wagon and looked at the three wounded goblins, all of whom were whimpering as they crawled backwards in the grass. Marrox grinned as he held his axe and rotated it a few times in his hands.

“Now’s a good time to run,” he growled.

The goblins nodded and panted as they stood up and started limping away from the wagon, with one of the wounded beasts resorting to dragging the unconscious goblin against the ground because he wasn’t strong enough to carry him over the shoulder. Once they began to depart, the humans all jumped outside the wagon and collected their valuables the assailants left on the ground.

“Fuckin’ goblins,” said one human.

“Can’t believe we thought those candle sticks were real,” said another, still feeling stupid for being so fooled.

“Hey, the drivers are still alive! Looks like the goblins just knocked ‘em out,” said a third human.

Marrox turned and faced two humans when they both walked up to him, unsure of what they should say at first. The male human studied Marrox’s clothing while the female just looked stunned.

“You…you saved us,” the woman said.

Marrox shrugged. “Not a fan of goblins myself.”

“That getup…and the design of your axe. I take it you’re from Kosslivo?”

Marrox paused for a moment, but he eventually nodded slowly and blinked. “Yes.”

“And yet still you did this…thank you,” the woman said, looking nearly teary-eyed.

Marrox struggled to find anything to say. He already knew what both of them were implying, and he already knew that if either of them discovered what he had done prior to today, they wouldn’t be thanking him at all. So Marrox just gave a short nod and smiled, before he began to walk away.

“Wait a minute—where you going?” the man asked.

“I thought you were riding into town with us?” the woman asked.

Facing the humans again, Marrox shrugged and smiled. “Got restless I guess. Feel like walking.”

Marrox heard the humans stutter for a moment, possibly hoping that they’d be able to draw him back over to the wagon. But the orc felt like being alone right now. He still had no idea which way he needed to go, so the giant green beast just walked whichever way his feet guided him.

Forward.


	2. Shaman

_He stood over the pile of bodies, hot breath exploding out of his mouth. There were hundreds of bodies surrounding him, surrounding all of the other orcs. Some of the other green, yellow, or brown-skinned beasts were hacking their victims apart or sullying their bodies with excrement or urine. But the green orc simply licked his lips as he looked at the corpses, shortly before he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned and looked at his king, flaring his nostrils as the burly beast looked down at him. Shortly afterwards, the king pointed to a pile of corpses and grinned when he saw them moving. The green orc snarled as he walked towards the bodies and flipped some of them over. Beneath them all was a small child covered in blood, who was playing dead and trying to escape. The green orc snorted as he swung his double-headed axe, while the king looked on._

_“He’s human. He’s not female. He’s useless,” the king said softly._

_Without even looking, the king scoffed and turned away, not even wasting time to look at the child. The green orc licked his lips again as he lifted his axe. The child shrieked. And then the green orc roared as he swung the axe down._

_The child went silent._

_____________________________________

He opened his eyes slowly, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen this morning. Marrox pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed as he sat up. And then he swore as he felt a sharp pang in his bowels. Marrox swiftly moved towards a bush, yanked down his trousers, and defecated before he messed his pants. Panting and sweating, Marrox waited until he was finished, before he turned and looked down at his fecal matter. He frowned as he pulled up his pants, and exhaled sharply, knowing he was running out of time faster than he expected. The orc rubbed his forehead, contemplating where he needed to go, if he still should bother finding her or not. As he picked up his axe and started to wander through the woods again, Marrox felt bile forming in his stomach. He slowed down and took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to keep his vomit down. Afterwards, the burly beast continued walking through the trees until he arrived on a very narrow dirt path designed for travelers and campers to walk upon. Marrox looked behind him and saw an endless sea of trees and bushes. Up ahead was the same, but Marrox assumed at some point he’d reach some kind of city or town.

So Marrox walked forward, his big boots clomping in the soil with each step he took. The orc breathed heavily as he maneuvered down the road, once again cherishing the serene environment. It wasn’t muggy or humid like it was yesterday, and the air was free of the scent of rain. Instead, Marrox could smell the various pine trees that were blooming around him, and caught a few whiffs of some of the berries growing in the nearby bushes. Marrox looked to his left and spotted a large deer that was calmly eating grass and minding its own business. He licked his lips, tempted to feast on venison. But given his waves of nausea, not to mention how loose his bowels were, he decided against it. When the deer spotted Marrox, it turned and jogged away, while Marrox grumbled at a potential meal lost. Still, Marrox wasn’t disheartened. He smiled slightly as he observed how tall the trees were, and the occasional sights of colorful birds that were moving towards nests built within tree hollows. Marrox looked up into the sky and noticed a few black crows circling around his head. He frowned and smelled the air, but didn’t smell any dead animals nearby.

“…Huh. Guess there’s…”

Marrox looked up into the trees again and spotted something he did not want to see. He cleared his throat and took two steps to the side, moments before he looked at the other trees and saw the same images. Knowing what was happening, Marrox immediately shut his eyes and started to take a few deep breaths. He inhaled through his nostrils, and exhaled slowly through his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat slowing down in his ears, and gradually relaxed after he got a better grip on his breathing pattern.

“Hey!”

Marrox ignored the voice. It wasn’t important. He focused on the breathing pattern. Inhale, exhale, in—

“HEY! I SEE YOU OVER THERE!”

Marrox snarled with frustration as he opened his eyes and looked to his right. Marrox tightened the grip around his axe, but gradually relaxed when he spotted a lone orc limping his way towards him. Squinting, Marrox leaned forward and could see that the orc in question was much older than he was, although still burly and tall like most orcs. He was clad in an open black and red cloak with the hood on. His yellow eyes seemed to glow in the distance, and Marrox could see his gray beard hanging from his chin. When the orc was close enough, Marrox noticed that he was only wearing a brown vest beneath his cloak and ratty gray shorts.

“Oooooh…another brother! Mighty fine day to run into another orc!”

Marrox could tell by the stench of the orc and his ratty clothes that he hadn’t been around civilization for some time. He smiled anyway, considering he was in the same situation.

“Likewise. You from Kosslivo?”

The orc nodded. “One of the main shamans there! King Torgash’s wizard division.”

“Really? …Have we met before?”

“Doubt it. Torgash abandoned most of the mages and wizards in his army. Said we couldn’t win wars by running out and screaming ‘a-bloogy-woogy-woo’ in front of our foes.”

Marrox blinked. “You mean he slaughtered all of you.”

The old orc snorted. “Didn’t want us workin’ in his army. Didn’t want other armies usin’ us against him. He was a smart one, that Torgash. Real ungrateful _bastard_ too.”

The old orc exhaled. “Least some of us got away. We all went our separate ways. Now it’s just ol’ me by my lonesome!”

Marrox shrugged. “We’ve been through worse.”

“No shit…never liked crowds anyway. I liked being by myself. No one givin’ ya orders, no one whinin’ about your work ethic, no one sayin’ ‘do this’ or ‘do that.’”

The old orc chuckled as he leaned forward and whispered, “No one complainin’ that you fart too much in yer sleep.”

Marrox had to laugh at that, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I hear ya! Not like any of us can help it!”

The two orcs laughed with each other for a moment before the old orc snorted and spat on the ground. He grinned toothily before he stepped closer to Marrox.

“You do seem familiar now that I think about it…”

Marrox shrugged. “I’m not. Was just another soldier in Torgash’s army. Nothin’ special ‘bout me.”

The old orc’s nostrils widened. “Hmph. Welp. Lotta special things ‘bout Glordale, lemme tell ya! S’a real nice town not far from here, gotta lotta stilios in it.”

Sighing, Marrox rolled his eyes. “Those fuckin’ lizards.”

“They ain’t drakos, so good ‘nuff for me.”

Before Marrox could say anything else, his stomach growled audibly. Nausea or not, the orc knew he needed to eat again if he wanted to keep his strength up, especially with all the traveling he was doing. He felt like the worst of his digestive issues was behind him, so the green orc snorted as he looked down the road.

“This town…they got any good taverns in it?”

The old orc grinned. “Maybe…”

_____________________________________________

It didn’t take much to convince Marrox to head into the town. Both of them only had to travel another five miles before they finally spotted the small area of buildings. Marrox noticed that the town wasn’t built like traditional cities or large establishments. All of the buildings were constructed around each other, forming a circle. None of the buildings were more than two stories high, and from what Marrox noticed, the place didn’t seem heavily populated. Once they got closer to the town’s entrance, they spotted a tall barred gate that was guarded by two stilios carrying spears and wearing armor that covered all but their feet, tail, and head. When the orcs were spotted, both of the stilios went on alert, scowling at them with their thin-slitted eyes and barring their yellow teeth.

“GRAH! You stay back, orcsssss! No trouble! Want no trouble from yousssss!” one of the guards hissed.

Marrox stared at the stilio clad in dark blue armor. He assumed the beast was some kind of salamander or gecko variety, judging by the yellow and black blotches of scales covering his smooth head. The other stilio had spines going from his scalp all the way down to his tail, and his scales were rough and orange.

“We mean you no trouble, lizards,” said the old orc. “Just here to spend the night.”

“The last time you were here, Gorlox, you stole food from us! I don’t suppose you’ve come to return it?” asked the orange-scaled guard.

“Yeah. I dropped it out in the woods last week. Want me to go get it?”

Both of the guards already knew what Gorlox was implying, which enraged them further. Marrox stepped in front of them both and snorted.

“I’m his ‘guardian,’ sorta speak. I’m with him this time so he _won’t_ steal from you. And unlike him, I have money,” Marrox said, before lifting a sack of gold coins he had tied around his waist.

“Ssssso no trouble?” asked the yellow and black guard.

“None. We’re just travelers, nothing more.”

Both of the guards eased up off the orcs and relaxed. Afterwards, the yellow and black guard shouted something in a language only stilios knew, and four more guards from within the town’s perimeter pulled open the gates with a creaking rumble. Marrox and Gorlox both looked at the stilios and nodded, while the guards just snarled at them. They didn’t interfere with either orc as they entered the town with the gates closing behind them. Once they were inside, they noticed that the town was void of any prominent places like libraries or churches. All they saw were multiple inns, taverns, and many blacksmiths. Every other building was a stilio’s living residence. As the orcs walked around the soft earth, they came across a large group of stilios who were having some kind of archery contest, most likely warriors trying to see who the best archer in town was. Just a few yards past them were another squad of lizards taking turns throwing spears at great lengths, which once again seemed like trained soldiers. The air smelled heavily of burning metal and sweat, not flowers or fresh trees or even waste.

“Huh…lotta soldiers ‘round here,” Marrox murmured.

“Eh, you know how it is. Was Kosslivo any different?”

“At the very least we had brothels. Shit, you think all these lizards tug one out every night?”

“Wanna ask?” Gorlox inquired, smirking.

“ _No_.”

The orcs kept wandering around the town, examining the surroundings but finding nothing in particular that was either threatening or interesting. They observed a mother watching over her three hatchlings as the trio of lizards fought each other using wooden swords. The children sounded like they were having fun, but Gorlox and Marrox noticed that their mother was constantly scowling. When they came across a blacksmith, they looked inside his shop and saw that he was pounding a hammer against a sword that had been placed against an anvil. Outside of one of the restaurants, four stilios were sitting against the building, drooling profusely as they bit into whole chickens and sloppily consumed huge chunks of lamb meat with only steins of beer or rum to wash it down with. The same kind of pattern repeated itself as the orcs explored: fighting, archery, crafting, and messy eating. It wasn’t until they reached the other side of town when Marrox spotted an opening leading to a narrow alley. Curious, Marrox moved through the alley between two buildings until he was at the rear section of the city. Once he was on the other side, Marrox’s eyes widened. The giant field behind the city was a humongous graveyard, with more gravestones than Marrox could count.

“The hell…?”

Before Marrox could proceed any further, Gorlox grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards.

“Yeah, there’s nothing important over there. You’ve seen one graveyard; you’ve seen ‘em all.”

Marrox glanced at the graveyard as Gorlox led him away, still wondering what exactly happened to lead to so many burials.

______________________________________

The two orcs eventually settled down at an inn as the sun began to set. Marrox used a good amount of his coins to pay for their meal, which was thankfully not a disappointment. Both orcs ordered two different varieties of meatloaf; Gorlox had one composed of elk meat, while Marrox ordered one made of venison. Marrox’s meatloaf was topped with horseradish sauce that was poured in a zigzag pattern, and he had a side of creamy, cheesy mashed potatoes in a large bowl and a small amount of green beans alongside the meatloaf. Gorlox’s meatloaf was made with olives and spinach, and the elderly orc could see the black olives and leaf bits sticking out of the baked meat. He only had green beans on the side and didn’t order potatoes. Both of them had a huge stein full of strong beer that had been brewed with special peppers only stilios knew about. Neither orc was sure what the lizards put into the beverage, but after they took a drink, they realized they would’ve been better off eating a raw habanero pepper whole. They didn’t openly complain about the heat, although one of the stilios who served the orcs their food smirked as he handed them napkins to wipe their foreheads.

The duo ate their meatloaf with their bare hands, slurping and smacking as they bit into the freshly cooked meat with their giant teeth. The only time either of them used silverware was when Marrox got a huge glob of mashed potatoes, and even then, sometimes he resorted to using his hand because he could grab more potatoes with it. Both orcs occasionally stopped so they could lick their fingers and hands clean, or so they could belch heartily and take another long drink of their spicy beverage. But neither of them complained about the quality of the food, and they finished their meal in no time at all. The orcs breathed heavily as they relaxed and sat on their stools, drooling and licking their mouths as they looked down at their empty plates and steins.

“Mmf…forgot them stilios make their meals rare,” Gorlox murmured.

“Heh. Think I saw blood oozing outta mine.”

Marrox growled as he licked his fingers again and relaxed. “So what’s yer plans for tomorrow?”

Gorlox shrugged. “Eh. Prolly find someone to suck mah cock. Head back outta town for a while. You?”

“Eh. Been looking for someone, but…eh. Not sure—”

Marrox stopped as he broke out into a coughing fit and was forced to cover his mouth with his arm. He rolled his tongue around his mouth before he spat down on his plate twice and exhaled.

“Not sure she’ll wanna see me.”

Gorlox flicked his eyes down at Marrox’s plate. Then he looked back up at the burly green orc. “Don’t suppose you got tar in your mouth?”

Marrox looked down at his saliva and phlegm. Then he exhaled deeply and rubbed his nose. “No.”

“Mm. How long you got?”

After a brief pause, Marrox flared his nostrils and looked at Gorlox. “To be honest…kinda surprised I woke up this morning.”

Gorlox scoffed and smirked. “All us orcs should be surprised if we wake up. Surprised no genocidal warlord has tried to render us all extinct yet.”

“Tch! Please. Those humans and dwarves _struggle_ to get their mates pregnant. We can do it without even trying.”

“Hmph. …S’gonna happen though. World’s gonna see that we pop out li’l orcs ‘n’ half-orcs faster than rabbits. Some twat with a crown on his or her head is gonna say that we’re ‘overpopulating’ the world and they’re gonna try to ‘control’ us. Prolly gonna start another pointless war.”

“Oh sure, yeah. Cause everything King Torgash did was so noble for us orcs,” Marrox replied snidely.

Gorlox exhaled and grinned. “Twas fun though.”

Marrox laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, yer right mate. It was…it was fun.”

Neither orc said anything to each other for a moment, almost as if they were dancing around the more direct questions they didn’t want to bring up. Eventually, Marrox spread his hands on the bar and sniffed.

“You get headaches?” he asked.

“Mm.”

“Nightmares?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Marrox paused. When he looked at Gorlox, the orc went out of his way to stretch down the collar of his cloak and tunic, exposing part of his neck. Marrox could see the scar around the orc’s burly throat, at which point Gorlox let go of his clothing and shook his head.

“What do we do now, Marrox? Hmm? Can’t go back. There’s nothing forward. Where do we go?”

“Left or right.”

Marrox chuckled after Gorlox jabbed him in his left shoulder, and the elderly orc joined in, smirking.

“Yes…yes. Suppose there are other ways. Just wish it were simpler, y’know? Simple like how it was back then.”

“Was it better though, Gorlox? Can you honestly look at me and say that everything we did for Torgash was good for us orcs?”

Gorlox blinked. “Hey. Least we were gettin’ our cocks wet.”

The orcs abruptly burst out into laughter again, despite knowing that any other race would find said comment appalling, given what both of them did. After they had another good laugh, the orcs traveled upstairs to one of the rooms they rented for the night and went inside. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a wide room with two beds for the orcs to sleep in and lanterns that lit the place. Both of them sat down on their mattresses with a huge squeak and exhaled as they got comfortable. Marrox looked down and lazily took his boots off by pushing them off with his feet. As soon as he set his plump green feet on the floor and curled his toes, Gorlox snorted and scrunched up his face.

“Oof. _That’s_ a smell. How long you been wearing them boots?”

Marrox smirked when he saw Gorlox wave a hand in front of his face. “As old as you are, I _know_ there’s worse things you’ve smelled than booted orc feet.”

“Don’t mean the stench still ain’t strong.”

Marrox exhaled before he pressed his hands into the mattress and frowned. “Hmm. Bed’s real soft.”

“Yeah. Not lumpy or full of holes.”

“Not jagged.”

“Not rough.”

Marrox grumbled, as did Gorlox. Both orcs turned and glared at each other.

“Floor?” Marrox asked.

“Floor,” Gorlox replied.

Both orcs, almost in unison, jumped off the bed and landed on the floor with a hefty thud, nearly shaking the lanterns off their nightstands. As soon as Marrox landed on the floor, he curled his toes again and exhaled with much relief. Smiling, he reached down and scratched his chest, all while Gorlox looked up at the lanterns and realized he forgot to extinguish the flames. He grunted as he crawled over to the lighting devices and blew out the flames, engulfing both orcs in complete darkness. Then Gorlox lied back down a few feet away from Marrox, and both orcs exhaled with relief again.

“Might be gone by the time you wake up in the morning,” Marrox said. “Always like getting on the move as early as I can so I can cover more ground.”

“I understand. Got to see another orc after being alone for so long, so trust me: you made my day.”

Marrox smiled a bit to himself and blinked. “You have a good night, Gorlox.”

“May it be our last!” the elderly beast replied proudly.

Marrox dismissed Gorlox’s comment, despite knowing it was true. Maybe tonight would be his last night. Maybe he’d be okay with that. He got to meet another resident from Kosslivo who wasn’t hostile, had dinner with him, spent quality time with him. Maybe dying in his sleep tonight wouldn’t be such a bad thing. So Marrox took a deep breath and eventually closed his eyes, waiting until he lost consciousness. But a few hours later, Marrox woke up again, still surrounded in darkness. Only this time around, he woke up to a foul stench not coming from his big feet, but rather Gorlox’s noisy rump. Marrox coughed several times and hastily fanned the air in front of his face as he sat up and plugged his nose. He listened to Gorlox snoring softly and mumbling in his sleep, moments before he heard a vile sputtering noise. Marrox groaned in disgust as he scooted away from Gorlox and a new wave of foul odors bombarded him. And then Marrox thought back to Gorlox’s comment about how he liked that no one complained that he constantly farted in his sleep.

Not wanting to spend the whole night stuck in the fetid room, Marrox went ahead and acquired his boots and axe. He quietly slid his boots back on before picking up his axe and heading for the door. Part of Marrox didn’t want to ditch the orc; it was evident that the old beast had been alone for some time and was happy to run into another fellow orc. But then Marrox heard more sputtering noises. 

He didn’t hesitate to leave the room afterwards.


	3. Seed

_There were so many in here. He didn’t know which one to pick. He wanted one, or two, possibly all of them. The king permitted it, if not encouraged it. After all, he was a proud, noble warrior; he deserved this. Drooling and sweating, the naked green orc approached the female humans with chains wrapped around their necks. No words were spoken. No pleas were made. The green orc stomped towards the first female who stuck out to him, a lithe, light-skinned woman with wide hips and black hair. He huffed and licked his lips, his phallus hardening as he reached down and groped the woman’s breasts. She made a tiny whimpering noise and shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. But the green orc didn’t care. He got on top of her and thrust his shaft into her, moaning and huffing as the woman cried out. When he finished, he looked at all of the other women in the dungeon and grinned widely._

_No reason why he should stop at just one._

_______________________________________________

He opened his eyes slowly, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen this morning. At least, he thought it was morning. But when Marrox looked around the woods, he could hear the bugs chirping and could see the stars in the sky. The moon was full and casting its light down into the trees, providing minimal light. Then Marrox heard someone scream in the distance, and he understood why he woke up. The orc coughed several times and wiped his mouth as he picked up his axe and started to jog through the woods, getting closer and closer to the noises. Nostrils widened, Marrox picked up a pungent odor and immediately realized what he was heading towards. The orc broke out into a sprint as he gradually got closer and closer to the grunts and screams.

“…still. BE STILL!”

Marrox heard a guttural voice and panted as he kept running, only stopping once he realized he was stomping through the broken twigs and leaves and creating way too much noise. Marrox swore to himself when he got too close, but by then it was too late.

“HELP! SOME—MMF!”

Marrox crouched down and hid as best as he could beside a tree, but the orc could hear the beast in the distance sniffing. The burly creature exhaled and chuckled.

“I smell you, orc! Come to join the fun, eh?”

_Shit_ , Marrox murmured to himself.

“PLEASE HEL—”

Marrox crept closer to the two individuals as the smell grew stronger and the rustling noises increased. He noticed a faint campfire in the distance illuminating the two creatures and scowled.

“Shhhh, hush darling. I’m almost done…”

Marrox listened to the leaves rustling again and scowled. He knew exactly what the beasts were doing and snorted. He easily could just turn away. This wasn’t his problem, wasn’t his fight. If he walked away and disappeared into the darkness, no one would notice or care. Marrox actually stood up and was about to walk in the opposite direction, until he heard one of the beasts howling. The orc gritted his teeth before he stomped towards the two beasts. With zero hesitation, he walked over to the duo and could see that they were gray werewolves, and one of them was on top of the other one’s groin. The werewolf dominating the one on the ground didn’t have time to turn around before Marrox grabbed its neck and violently snapped it. He snarled as he jerked the beast’s body backwards, and it wasn’t until the dead werewolf was lying on its back that Marrox noticed its vulva.

“What—”

Marrox turned and looked at the other werewolf. He was lying on the ground with tears running down his face, his groin covered in fluids. Marrox kept turning his head back and forth, looking at the dead werewolf and the one who was recovering from the assault. Eventually, the male werewolf grunted as he got to his footpaws, his height almost matching Marrox’s.

“Help me,” the werewolf growled.

“I just did,” Marrox growled.

“No, no, no, no, my-my pack…” The werewolf whined, his ears lowering as he turned and looked behind his shoulder. “They…if-if they find the body like _this_ , they’ll know—”

“That you let some bitch tame you?”

Marrox yelped as he backed away when the werewolf swiped his claws at him, narrowly missing his face. Marrox immediately lifted his axe and snorted.

“Help me! Just-just help me carry her body to the river; we’ll move faster if we haul the corpse together!”

“Uh-uh. I saved your ass; that’s enough. This ain’t my problem.”

“You made it your problem when you snapped that cunt’s neck! NOW YOU’RE GONNA FUCKIN’ HELP ME!”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll call my pack! Twenty fuckin’ werewolves and _one_ orc. You think that’s gonna go well for you?”

Marrox grumbled as he turned and looked at the ground and thought to himself. _See? See what happens when you play hero?_

“Goddamn it.”

Marrox strapped his axe to his back before he reached down and grabbed the dead werewolf’s head. He grunted as he started to lift half of the beast’s body, surprised at how burly the beast really was.

“ _Damn_. Since when are you dogs this heavy?”

The werewolf walked over to the corpse’s legs and grunted as he picked up the dead beast as well. Together, the two of them were able to lift the werewolf off the ground. As both of them started to walk closer to the river, the werewolf finally answered Marrox’s question.

“I’m a Pureblood. Not like the other changelings you see, them humans who only seem to change when the moon’s full.”

“You’re a Pureblood?”

The werewolf nodded. “Yeah.”

Marrox looked at the werewolf’s body again and flared his nostrils. “Okay, so… _how_ did this happen again?”

“She wanted sex. I didn’t. The end. Shut the fuck up and keep walking.”

Marrox nodded, choosing not to inquire any further about the situation. So the two of them walked in silence for several more minutes, with the two of them listening to most of the ambient noises. Even with no lantern, both creatures could see in the dark a lot better than other races, and the moon was so full that it acted like a dimly-lit lantern of its own. Marrox kept flicking his eyes at the werewolf, examining the scratches on his chest and face, and the patches of torn gray fur around his body. As they neared the river, the werewolf snarled when he caught Marrox gazing at him.

“STOP JUDGING ME!” the werewolf roared.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“YES, YOU DID!”

“I distinctly remember being silent.”

“Don’t think I can’t read your thoughts! I-I know what you see; I know how you _orcs_ treat people!”

Marrox glared at the werewolf after hearing emphasis on the word “orcs.” He growled softly as he listened to the sound of the river up ahead, the rushing water sloshing downstream and splashing against various rocks and logs. Marrox turned around as he saw the moonlight reflecting against the water and exhaled as they finally reached their destination. The werewolf panted as he kept looking around and sniffing the air, hoping that no one else would find them or discover what either of them had done. When they were at the river, the werewolf gestured for Marrox to drop the body, and both of them huffed with strain as they let the heavy body flop to the riverbank.

“Listen,” Marrox said. “I didn’t intend to sound condescending earlier. It’s just…I’m not used—” Marrox grunted and changed his words. “Where…I grew up…it’s typical…for the _males_ to be dominant.”

“Oh. So where you grew up, only males raped females. Good for you. You could always try having consensual sex, but nah. Rape is the way to go for _your_ kind,” the werewolf snarled.

“Not all of us are fucking rapists,” Marrox snarled.

“So you’re telling me not _once_ in your life did you force yourself onto another female?”

Marrox didn’t answer, if only because he knew if he did, he’d end up lying. So he just scowled and looked away, although by that point, the werewolf already figured out the answer. He scoffed at Marrox before folding his furry arms.

“Thought so.”

“Fuck you. I’m not the one who screamed like a little bitch while some _actual_ bitch was forcing herself into me. You’re so fucking high and mighty? Why don’t you tell me exactly _how_ this ended up happening?”

The werewolf snarled and looked down at the corpse. He lowered his ears a bit before he slowly began to scratch at his right paw.

“There ain’t many of us Purebloods left, y’know. Stilios, they-they’re all over. Fuckin’ drakos, gargoyles, liches…fuckin’ races of all kinds. Everyone knows lycans are just humans wearing a giant rug on ‘em. _We’re_ the true wolves, the true beasts of the night who started all of this, the ones who gave up their humanity long ago. But we’ll be gone soon…and given how those _humans_ treat other werewolves, there won’t be lycans at all pretty soon.”

“So the tribe you’re in is struggling to repopulate?”

The Pureblood huffed. “It’s not easy. Can’t go a day without fucking. Everyone’s so desperate to have more offspring. And, uh, Jiroveen here, she just…didn’t want to settle down.”

“And you did.”

“It’s _tiring_. I kept telling everyone that—especially Jiroveen. They didn’t care. I know she didn’t.” The Pureblood paused for a moment before he looked away, gazing out into the river. “This ain’t…the first time…um. Last time was about a week ago. Same thing, same reasons. I was tired, she wasn’t. No one was around to help me, so I just let it happen.”

Marrox heard leaves rustling in the distance and swallowed as he looked at the corpse. “That’s enough; let’s just get rid of this before someone sees.”

The werewolf snapped out of his brief trance and nodded. Both burly creatures bent over and picked up the corpse, straining their backs and grunting repeatedly as they picked up the naked Pureblood’s corpse. They took a few deep breaths before both of them signaled each other with a faint nod, and shouted as they tossed the corpse sideways. The body splashed in the water noisily, and the fast-moving stream started to carry the Pureblood corpse further away from the bank. Neither creature could see the body floating away due to all the other debris in the water and minimal lighting. Marrox huffed as he scratched his head and leaned against a tree, feeling tired.

“What happens if your pack finds the corpse?”

“They won’t. Jiroveen had a habit of ‘disappearing’ for days at a time, only to abruptly show up again. Even if her body does turn up, I’m sure they’ll write it off as some human slaying her. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“If you say so.”

After the werewolf and orc waited for a moment, both of them sat down beside the river, breathing heavily as they calmed down and let the adrenaline flow from their bodies. The werewolf grunted as he picked at his teeth while Marrox could feel his chest tightening a bit. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Marrox abruptly asked.

The werewolf scoffed. “I did. They all reacted same as you. ‘You’re a Pureblood, Lorwyl! You can’t let some bitch tame you!’ ‘Oh, Lorwyl, that’s hysterical! A bitch took _you_? A bitch forced herself on _you_?’ ‘Bitches don’t rape us Purebloods! Hehe, not unless we want it.’ All that shit…course, then Jiroveen started to run her mouth too. Now everyone looks at me differently. They don’t say anything to my face, but I hear the whispers…I know everyone in my pack thinks I’m weak.”

“Then do something about it,” Marrox said bluntly.

“Tch! Whuh, take on my own pack alone? Fight everyone who thinks I’m weak?”

“Why not?”

“Look, I know you’re an orc, but fighting doesn’t solve _everything_. You can’t just pick up a weapon and start hacking away at everyone who disagrees with you!”

Marrox rubbed his chin. “Okay then. Well…everyone who said you’re weak?”

“What about ‘em?”

“Fuck ‘em. Literally. Force your way into them…publicly, if you can.”

Lorwyl snarled as he rubbed his head. “This is so fuckin’ predictable of you! Of _course_ you’d suggest that! That’s all you fuckin’ orcs do! You see a problem? Kill it. See someone you don’t like? Kill it. See someone you wanna fuck? Fuck ‘em—whether they want it or not. Just a cycle of goddamn never-ending violence! It’s no wonder the Uprising happened all those years ago, especially with someone like King Torgash ruling the place!”

“First of all, King Torgash was a maniac who _started_ violence because he wanted to. Second of all, this ‘cycle’ you talk about? We orcs don’t start it. We finish it. You understand?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll take the word of _one_ orc over the entirety of your race.”

“Y’know, when you constantly throw all these passive-aggressive quips at me, I kinda understand just how you allowed some bitch to rape you.”

“You fuck—” Lorwyl snarled and panted several times, nodding. “Fine, fine. It’s my fault, eh? It’s my fuckin’ fault that that cunt raped me? You’re blaming _me_ now?! How the fuck would you feel if some female raped you?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“What if she did?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“And if she did?”

“She wou—”

“ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!”

Marrox glared at Lorwyl and noticed that the werewolf was drooling profusely and looked like he was about to rip his head off. Marrox scoffed at the beast and nodded.

“Fine…hypothetically, _if_ some female raped me? Tch…I’d make sure that bitch suffered. I’d make sure…she never experienced ecstasy or lust ever again. I’d burn her cunt with a heated rod, repeatedly. I’d cut off her tits just so whenever anyone else saw her naked again, they’d see those horrific scars. You understand?”

“I can’t do any of that. We kinda just tossed said rapist’s corpse into the river.”

“Okay, well, if my tribe found out, I’d _make_ them respect me again. Since fighting doesn’t work, well, fucking does. The only thing worse than getting taken by a bitch is getting taken by the male who got taken by the bitch. And if that don’t work, well…” Marrox sucked on his teeth. “Then everybody cries. Everyone wants to abuse me, talk behind my back, claim that I’m weak and worthless? That’s fine. I’ll just castrate everyone in my tribe. Then _no one_ will be able to say a thing about me. Sure…I got taken by a female. Least I still got my cock and balls though.”

“Fuck’s sake,” the werewolf said, standing up. “You’re being serious about all of this.”

“Yup,” Marrox agreed, as he stood up beside the wolf before abruptly punching him in the abdomen. “Hmm. Doesn’t _feel_ like cotton, last time I checked.”

Lorwyl blinked as he looked down at Marrox. “You _are_ blaming me,” he concluded softly.

“I didn’t say that. Maybe this Jiroveen was stronger than she looked. Maybe she was more aggressive than other females. Maybe you were drunk; maybe you were asleep. Don’t know, don’t care. What matters is your pack, from the sound of it, doesn’t respect you because of this. Now, I’m not saying this is your fault. But if you don’t do something right now to change your pack’s opinion of you, other females are gonna look at Jiroveen and say, ‘well, she did it easily. Maybe we can do it to.’ And what happens next _will_ be your fault. So you better figure out what you’re gonna do. Soon.”

Lorwyl listened to the wind blowing through the trees noisily before he rubbed his right arm and sighed quietly.

“Violence doesn’t solve everything,” he muttered.

“It solves _some_ things.” Marrox exhaled deeply and shrugged. “But what do I know? I’m an orc, remember?”

Lorwyl couldn’t say anything after that. He just stared at Marrox for a moment before he nodded gently and turned around to walk away. Marrox did the same, blinking a few times before he exhaled and resumed wandering through the woods. He stayed by the river, listening to the water sloshing in his ears. Suddenly, Marrox started to cough up more fluids, and the orc stopped walking so he could lean against a tree and spit all over the ground. His heart started beating fast, and Marrox gritted his teeth as he listened to various noises creeping into his skull. The orc took several deep breaths and shook his head, still thinking about all the crimes he committed when he was younger and all the violence he was also exposed to. After taking a harsh breath, Marrox opened his eyes and stood back up.

Then he resumed walking through the woods, still unsure of where he should go.


	4. Flame

_They were all right there. He knew it was possible to save them. He knew some of them were still trapped inside, still roaring and screaming as they tried to escape the burning building. The green orc panted as he observed the hellish flames spreading rapidly, having already consumed the roof. Someone was striking against the wall, desperate to create a hole that would lead to freedom, to safety. And the green orc was just staring, watching as the fire kept spreading, as the dreaded stench of burning flesh and skin filled his lungs._

_“They’re still inside,” the green orc murmured._

_“I’m well aware,” the king replied._

_The green orc snarled as he turned and looked up at King Torgash. “My brothers are dying! Let me save—”_

_“No,” he replied bluntly. “We shall watch them burn.”_

_“But—”_

_King Torgash grabbed the green orc’s head and jerked it around so they were both staring at the building. Torgash grinned widely and blinked._

_“Expendable. Inutile. Worthless. That’s what soldiers are. That’s what you orcs are. One dies, five rise. You and the other commanders must understand your place. You are all a plague destroying the host you’ve infected. Sometimes the host fights back. But no worries…the host will be dead soon.”_

_The king exhaled as he rubbed the orc’s bald head. “For now though, let us watch the fire. Once this ‘host’ is dead, we shall start another fire of our own.”_

_The green orc couldn’t do anything but obey. He blinked and widened his nostrils as the king forced him to keep looking. And soon enough, all the screams ceased._

__________________________________

He opened his eyes slowly, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen this morning. Marrox grumbled as he sat up, his mouth dry and his stomach gurgling. Before he could stop himself, he covered his mouth with his left hand, seconds before he retched violently and vomited all over the ground. The orc shook and coughed, gagging and retching as he slowly got on all fours and released more bile from his stomach. When he finished, he wiped his mouth off and looked at the puddle in front of him. He could tell by how black it was that he was getting worse. The orc moaned as he wearily stood up, panting and coughing, spitting repeatedly so he could get the awful flavor out of his mouth. Marrox leaned against a tree and huffed, still unable to figure out what to do next. He kept telling himself that he’d be better off spending the rest of his life inside of a cave, away from everyone else. Part of him thought he may as well return to his old ways, just to fuel everyone’s biased opinion of his kind. But as the orc flicked his eyes down at the vomit, he had brief flashbacks of crying, of hearing the woman moaning, of seeing the light-green creature in his arms. He had to go see her, regardless of how the meeting would transpire.

The burly beast wiped his mouth again and resumed his journey, sweating and feeling noticeably weaker than last week. As he journeyed through the woods, the orc could see that it was cloudy, but not humid, and there was no presence of rain in the air. If anything, Marrox noticed a large amount of flies, and a strange odor that made his nose twitch. Marrox ignored it, passing off the stench and assuming it was coming from his own body and clothes. After clomping in the soil and grass for a few minutes, Marrox froze when he saw that a few trees had been knocked over, and someone had left a colossal footprint in the land.

“The hell?”

Marrox walked over to the footprint and examined it. It seemed fairly recent, and when Marrox turned to his left, he saw another footprint and a few bushes that had been trampled. The orc blinked a few times and curiously followed the trail, heading northeast to see where the mysterious creature had gone. It had to have been some kind of cyclops or giant—possibly a variation of a troll. The footprints looked humanoid and consisted of five toes. Suddenly, Marrox stopped and scowled as he grabbed his axe and moved more cautiously. The orc remembered hearing one too many tales about the wrath of ettins and what they were capable of, and the green beast definitely did _not_ want to end up as one’s victim. He continued following the footsteps for another few minutes, scowling as the stench from earlier increased, along with a disgusting noise of some beast crunching and slurping. When Marrox shoved his way past a set of branches, he came upon a clearing and finally found the orange-skinned entity. It was sitting down with its back turned, much to Marrox’s luck. He couldn’t exactly make out what creature it was, but it was several meters tall, and big enough to flatten some of the very small trees growing in the woods.

Still staring, Marrox heard the creature grunt and jerk its left arm away from its head. Marrox noticed half of a goat’s body in the creature’s hand, with blood oozing from its torn midriff. The orc kept listening to the beast crunching and smacking, all while he stared at the creature’s hairy back and large, unclean buttocks. Marrox was about to back away when the beast sniffed twice and slowly turned its head around. It was right then where Marrox discovered he was looking at a cyclops, with its single eye in the center of its head and a tan horn on its scalp.

“Orc,” the beast growled, its voice sounding masculine. “There’s an orc in my domain.”

Marrox didn’t bother running. The creature already saw him, and there was no way he could escape without the beast chasing after him and either catching or stomping on him. Marrox watched as the cyclops turned his whole body around and began to stand, revealing that his only bit of clothing was a brown loincloth covering his groin. The cyclops shoveled the other half of the goat into his mouth and chewed on it noisily, crunching with his mouth open as drool and blood ran down his chin.

“WHO DARES ENTER THE DOMAIN OF MULVERNT?!” the cyclops boomed.

“Um…Marrox?” the orc replied.

Mulvernt took two small steps towards the orc and looked down, still crunching. “Tell me, Marrox. Are you a hunter?”

The cyclops chuckled as he placed a hand on his oversized stomach that seemed to churn softly. “I’m rather fond of devouring your kind.”

“Just an orc. I was just exploring, trying to find someone who could help me.”

In a matter of seconds, Mulvernt got on all fours, his big head only a few feet away from Marrox. The orc stared at the cyclops’s giant eye and his jagged horn as Mulvernt snorted.

“How wonderful! I was looking for someone to help me too!”

Feeling exposed and somewhat uneasy about the cyclops, Marrox scratched the back of his head and grumbled. “Yeah…y’know, I may just find someone else. But thanks anyway.”

“I insist you stay! You scratch my ass, and I’ll scratch yours!”

Marrox raised an eyebrow. “Thought the term was ‘back’?”

Mulvernt shook his head. “NOPE! It’s ass for me!”

And with that, Mulvernt shifted around on the ground, still making sure he didn’t hit or step on Marrox by mistake. He was still on all fours, although now his backside was pointed at Marrox. Marrox immediately backed away and covered his nose with his left arm, now aware of where the ghastly odor was coming from. 

“There ya go! Give it a _good_ scratch for me traveler!”

Marrox felt more bile rising in his throat again. It wasn’t even the stench that sickened him; just the sight of the flabby orange buttocks and the sheer amount of dried fecal matter built up within the crevice nearly made him retch. 

“I ain’t touchin’ that,” Marrox replied, disgusted.

“Awwww, now c’mon, traveler! I ain’t even gassy today! You should be lucky!”

“I’m not scratching your fetid ass.”

Mulvernt turned and looked at Marrox. “But you must! You’ve intruded upon my territory! It is only fair that you obey my wishes for trespassing! It’s not like I’m asking—”

“I’m not doin’ it.”

“But you can—”

“No.”

“I’m only—”

“No.”

“It’s not—”

“No.”

“Can’t you—”

“No.”

“STOP INTERR—”

“ _No_.”

Before Marrox even had the chance to turn around, Mulvernt snarled as he jerked his body around and grabbed the orc with his meaty right hand. The cyclops snarled as he shifted around and sat down near a set of trees, holding Marrox up to his face as he spoke.

“You’re gonna scratch my fuckin’ ass. Or I shall feast on your flesh and use your bones to clean my teeth out!”

“I’m fine with that,” Marrox said nonchalantly.

Mulvernt stared at the orc. And then he abruptly burst out into a fit of laughter, spraying spittle and hot breath all over the green beast. After laughing to himself for almost a solid minute, Mulvernt slowly lowered his hand and leaned backwards before dropping Marrox. The orc grunted as he stood on the cyclops’s abdomen, while Mulvernt looked down and smirked at the orc.

“You travelers are so _funny_! Ahhhhh, so entertaining when I run into folks like you!”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You _seriously_ thought I expected you to scratch my ass?”

Marrox scratched the back of his head. “I kinda did, yeah.”

“Hehe, no worries, Marrox! I’ve no intention of ‘torturing’ you to such great lengths!”

Marrox scowled and folded his arms. “What if I said ‘yes’ and I actually went through with it?”

“Oh shit,” Mulvernt said, giggling uncontrollably again. “I just remembered—THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED A FEW TIMES!”

Marrox rolled his eyes as he listened to Mulvernt laughing again, his belly shaking a little, forcing Marrox to stay steady so he wouldn’t slide off the beast. Once he finished laughing hysterically to himself again, Mulvernt held up his hands and exhaled.

“Okay, okay—I’m done now…seriously. So,” Mulvernt said, lowering his hands, “just how itchy is your ass?”

“ _What_?” Marrox asked, confused.

“You scratch my ass, I scratch yours. How you want me to scratch it?”

It took Marrox a moment to realize what Mulvernt was talking about. But once he figured it out, he exhaled and licked his tusks before speaking.

“I’ve been putting this off for a while, but at this point, I don’t have much time left. I’m looking for someone, a half-orc named Margoth. I don’t suppose you know where she lives?”

“Half-orc, eh?” Mulvernt rubbed around his horn and blinked. “Well, I know about a large series of settlements and farms a lotta half-orcs reside in. Usually I go there whenever I’m hungry and can’t find any wild animals to feast on. And sometimes the farmers do need, err, ‘fertilizer,’ and I’m happy to oblige in that case.”

“Naturally,” Marrox said, not even bothering to inquire about the “fertilizer” comment. “Do you know any of their names?”

Mulvernt shook his head. “Not sure. But everyone I met seemed…friendly. Helpful, even. That was…rare. I mean, no offense to half-orcs or anything. But we both know how half-orcs are created.”

Marrox slowly looked away in shame before he fidgeted with his tunic. “Yes…”

The two creatures listened as the leaves in the trees rustled for a moment, the branches creaking from a strong gust of wind blowing. Mulvernt stared at the orc and frowned before blinking.

“This Margoth…you said this person’s female, right?”

“Yes.”

“Mm. Tell me, where are you from, Marrox?”

Marrox huffed, as if he already expected the reaction. “Kosslivo.”

“I see…the Uprising…King Torgash. Heard a lot about him.”

“He’s dead now, so no need to fret over it.”

“Oh, I know, I know. I’ve also heard that Kosslivo is doing better with him gone.”

“It is.”

Mulvernt rolled his tongue around his mouth before he leaned forward and stared at Marrox. “You don’t want to go see this Margoth…do you? If what I heard about what the orcs did in Kosslivo under Torgash’s rule is true, then…well, obviously—”

“Yes, _obviously_. But I need to see her.”

As Mulvernt leaned back, Marrox closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “You don’t know what it’s like, Mulvernt.”

“Actually, I do.” Mulvernt shifted around slightly as he spread his legs and sighed deeply. “I remember some time ago, I ran into these two goblins and a stilio, gave ‘em a ride to a castle. There was one chatty li’l guy who asked me…a few odd questions. But I remember him asking if I ever lit my farts on fire.”

Marrox opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Mulvernt. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s relevant, trust me. Anyway, I told him I did…and I nearly burned down the forest because of it. Then later on, I told him that once I visited a village, and I had a bad case of the trots. Now _luckily_ , I didn’t kill anyone. But, um…I resorted to using one of their main wells as a toilet. The goblin also asked if I ever drowned anyone with my seed while stroking myself. And I told him yeah, I nearly did.”

“These are all very ‘humorous’ tales,” Marrox said flatly, “but I don’t get—”

“It’s actually not funny.” Mulvernt paused, and then looked up briefly as he thought. “Okay, the drowning incident, that _was_ funny. The traveler I came across was into…bizarre sexual pleasures.”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there,” Marrox interrupted.

“Right, right, off-topic—sorry. Anyway, um…you know, about a decade ago, I didn’t behave like this. I was a lot more careless. I traveled around with an ettin for a few months, got into a lot of shenanigans. We’d have fun wandering into towns or villages, sometimes heading into farms, sometimes ports. One time, both of us got very drunk and caused lots of destruction in a small town. He told me it was one of the best times he ever had.”

“Okay. And?”

“It was the worst thing we’ve ever done.” Mulvernt paused for a moment as he picked at a scab on his chest. “When we went into towns? Sometimes I’d accidentally step on houses and crush them, or I’d knock over a building and destroy it. With people inside. Sometimes when we went to farms, we’d shamelessly piss all over the crops and either drown or sully the plants. That one night, when we got drunk and destroyed a town? We didn’t care. Everyone was…they were calling us monsters, running away from us. But we thought it was all good fun. Before we left, my friend got so sick from drinking, that both of his heads vomited all over the ground. …He threw up so much that he ended up burying a few people in his bile, and they drowned. As for me? Well…I had to take a shit. Very, very badly. So I did. Right on top of a wagon.”

Mulvernt paused again, and then he slowly held up two fingers. “Two girls were hiding beneath that wagon. Their parents…they saw what I had done. I saw what I had done. The parents, they wailed hysterically.” Mulvernt shrugged. “I just looked at my pile of shit and laughed. I called my friend over, pointed at my shit. Then he started laughing.”

Exhaling, Mulvernt closed his big eye and shook his head. “Anyway, afterwards, we wandered out of the forest, and passed out from inebriation. When we woke up, we found out that we had been tied down by several humans. All of them were screaming, crying out in anger and grief, demanding blood. So they started stabbing the both of us with spears, and eventually killed my friend. I broke free from my bonds, and I thought about killing them. But then I remembered, ‘oh right, I just destroyed a town and shat on two little girls.’ So…I ran. They hunted me down for several days, but eventually I escaped the country, never went back.”

“…Shit,” Marrox said softly.

Mulvernt nodded. “Exactly. Shit. S’what made me realize that I need to do better, that I had to change. It’s not something you small creatures think about. When you sit down, you don’t have to worry about killing someone with your fat buttocks. When you walk, you don’t need to look down to make sure you’re not stepping on some _one_. When you take a piss or squat and shit on the ground, all you gotta do is make sure you don’t crush a worm or an insect. I can’t do that anymore, and it’s something I’m deeply envious about.”

“I don’t understand…just what do you see in me that you see in yourself? A shi—” Marrox changed his wording. “A tragic past we’re trying to correct?”

After another pause, Mulvernt rubbed his big eye before sniffing. “Fire. I see fire in you, Marrox. That’s what we are. Fire provides heat and comfort. It lights candles, lanterns, streetlights, cooks raw food, heats water. But when fire has no control, it burns. It destroys buildings, whole villages and forests. It can hurt people, even kill them. …But that’s not fire’s fault. We can’t blame fire for doing what it does. But we can _control_ it.”

As Mulvernt stared at the orc, he began to smile a bit. “Now I don’t know _everything_ that you’ve done, but the fact that you didn’t _immediately_ try to kill me and have been acting affable this whole time means that you’ve learned to control your flames.”

“What about you? Your entire body smells like it hasn’t been cleansed in months, possibly years. And you have this odd…fondness of scatological humor.”

“Controlling fire is not the same as _changing_ fire. Trust me, I’m well aware that I embrace my tastes in odors and bodily waste a bit too much. But I would rather have people look at me as a fetid, disgusting, but ultimately nice creature with a crude sense of humor, than look at me as a malicious monster who would ignominiously kill someone with his own shit and _then_ find that funny.”

“Right…I see your point now.”

Marrox sighed heavily as he looked down at the ground and hopped off the cyclops. He landed on the ground with a hefty thud before standing straight up and looking at Mulvernt.

“Appreciate the chat…as vile as it was.”

“No problem, traveler! You want me to give you a lift to those farms? Might take a few days before you get there.”

“Nah. I just need some more time alone to think.”

Mulvernt grinned. “You mean more time to get away from my stench?”

“That too,” Marrox said, before chuckling.

“Fair enough. Hope your quest in finding Margoth bears fruit!”

The green orc nodded as he slowly began to walk away. He still had his doubts about what would happen once he finally reached the village, but he tried to shove away such pessimistic thoughts. He wasn’t the same person then that he was now. Nothing he did in the past should matter now.

Hopefully.


	5. Evil

_He looked over at the king, watching as he observed some of the babies within the nursery. King Torgash looked down at one of the babies and chuckled as he started pressing his finger against the child’s nose, staring at the infant half-orc as he kept trying to grab his meaty finger. As the green orc looked on at Torgash, he also looked to his right at the other orc who was looking at all of the babies with scorn, envy even._

_“Such fine warriors they shall be…wouldn’t you two agree?”_

_Both orcs nodded but remained silent. King Torgash noticed, and promptly turned and glared at them._

_“Kovkon…what of your newest child?”_

_The light brown orc standing beside the green one swallowed. “Disposed, my King. His lungs—”_

_“Try again, Kovkon.”_

_“My King…I’ve tried six times now. I feel like my talents are best suited elsewhere…”_

_The king snorted. “You are a valiant warrior, a brutish barbarian. Are you telling me you’re too impotent to produce a worthy child?”_

_“No, my King! I’m not—”_

_“If you are, then perhaps I should remove your assets entirely so you’ll focus solely on conquering more land for me. Is that what you want?”_

_The green orc still kept silent, not wanting to antagonize the king one bit. The brown orc exhaled deeply and shook his head. “No, my King. We’ve slaves aplenty. I’m sure…I’m sure one will produce a faithful heir.”_

_“You best hope so. Hehe, your balls are depending on it,” the king joked._

_As the brown orc left the nursery, King Torgash walked behind the green orc and patted his shoulder._

_“No need for you to worry though. You’ve always done such a fine job at making me happy. Keep it up, Marrox. Heh…maybe you’ll end up like me someday.”_

_Marrox turned and looked at the king’s wicked grin. And for perhaps the first time in his life, he was genuinely frightened at what he would become in the future._

___________________________________

He opened his eyes slowly, something he was hoping wouldn’t happen this morning. This time when Marrox awoke, he thought he heard muffled grunting in the distance. As he stood up and grunted, the orc cracked his back a few times as he stretched. He took a huge drink from his canteen and exhaled as he wiped his mouth. After he closed the canteen, Marrox continued traversing through the woods, happy to see that there were a lot more wide-open areas, and less places for bandits to ambush him. The orc walked into a clearing that had a few tree stumps in the center of it and sniffed the air. He stopped once he noticed a few pouches lying on the ground, along with a set of clothes. Curious, Marrox grabbed some of the clothing and sniffed it, catching a faint whiff of a stilio. Acting cautious, Marrox dropped the clothing and grabbed his axe, feeling exposed. He quietly crept forward, a sense of trepidation overwhelming him, as if he was stumbling into a trap he should’ve spotted several minutes ago. Marrox disappeared into the woods again and heard muffled snarling and snorting. He saw a faint glimpse of someone walking along a dirt path.

And then the smell hit him, and Marrox immediately dropped to the ground. He knew the pungent scent anywhere, and was more than certain that more creatures carrying said scent would follow. The orc waited patiently for three whole minutes, only exhaling when he absolutely had to, before he stood up again. Moving quickly, Marrox started to jog through the woods, hoping to get away from the creatures before they spotted him. He knew some of them were friendly, or at least not violent. But he had seen what they could do, and he knew how they felt about orcs. So Marrox kept jogging, tearing his way through any tree branches he saw, until he jumped over a berry bush and landed out into the middle of a road. He spotted tracks on the road that had to have been left by a wagon, along with a set of reptilian footprints. Marrox panted a few times and exhaled, shortly before he looked up and saw them hanging from the trees. He stayed calm, as he always did. It was nothing. It was always nothing. Marrox got down on one knee as he felt his heart beating fast.

With one hand on his chest, Marrox shut his eyes and started to take deep breaths. He calmed his nerves and continued to think peacefully, as opposed to fixating on what he saw up in the trees. He waited another two minutes before he opened his eyes back up and huffed harshly. And he frowned. The bodies were still hanging in the trees.

“Oh gods…” Marrox muttered.

He walked over to the mutilated, nude bodies strung up in the trees and scowled when he spotted that some of the creatures had their copulatory organs stripped off. Just to ensure it was real, Marrox went as far as groping one of the bodies, reaching up and tugging against one of the scaly legs.

“Fuck me,” Marrox snarled.

“You got a thing for that, orc?” someone hissed.

Marrox turned around and snarled, still gripping his axe tightly. It was too late to run now; the assailant already spotted him. In only a matter of moments, an oversized, burly, reptilian figure wearing a white leather vest and trousers stepped out from the field of trees and revealed himself. Marrox snorted as he looked at the draconic bipedal beast, watching as smoke came out of his hot mouth. The orc stared at the beast’s dark blue scales that were much more rough and jagged compared to a stilio’s. His eyes were yellowish-orange with a slit-like pupil. Two large white horns protruded upwards from the sides of his head—much like a traditional dragon’s horns would. Three jagged spikes were sticking out of his scalp as well between both horns, and another series of spikes traveled from the creature’s nape down to his tail. He only had four fingers and three wide toes on his giant feet. His snout was a lot broader and thicker compared to most stilios. This hadn’t been the first time Marrox had seen this kind of beast before, and judging by the bodies up in the trees, he knew exactly why it was here. The blue-scaled creature who was nearly seven feet tall stepped over to Marrox and growled deeply.

“I know you orcs are very _open_ to all forms of fornication.”

Marrox scoffed. “And I know you drakos are very sensitive about creatures trying to ‘mock’ you.”

The blue drako snarled. “You know nothing of our conflict with stilios!”

“I sure as shit know they don’t cut you drakos open like pigs and hang you from tree branches.”

The blue drako grinned. “S’a little present! A warning for all future travelers, and a message for all stilios. We’re comin’ for them all, y’know. All these stilios must be purged!”

All of a sudden, the blue drako walked in front of Marrox and licked his teeth as he opened his mouth. He flared his nostrils, the massive holes moving as the drako sniffed Marrox several times, leaning over and letting his pungent scent flow into his lungs. The drako hissed in Marrox’s face before speaking again.

“Mmm…that orc stench. So sweaty and manly…I love it,” the blue drako said.

Marrox grumbled as he turned his head away. “Mmf…that drako breath. Smells of brimstone and hot carrion. I adore it so much it’s making me physically ill.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Marrox rotated his axe a few times and was tempted to swing it right then and there, until the blue drako reached forward and grabbed the handle.

“That’s a lovely, lovely axe. Give it to me.”

“Ask nicely.”

“ _Please_ give it to me.”

“No.”

“But I asked nicely!” the blue drako whined.

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you don’t get you want in life.”

The blue drako snarled, large clouds of smoke seeping from his maw. “Gimme that fuckin’ axe!”

“Or what? You gonna poison me with your noxious breath?”

The blue drako’s throat started to glow, and Marrow was ready to attack. Before either of them could do anything, an arrow landed in the ground diagonally, sticking out the soil between both creatures. The duo stopped and turned, where they spotted another drako with red scales and similar attire holding a bow. He sighed heavily and held his bow with one hand, before reaching down and dragging a captive stilio forward with his other hand.

“Gilennes, stop it,” the red drako growled. “He said he wasn’t gonna give it to you.”

“BUT I WANNA PLAY WITH IT!”

“What did I say, Gilennes?”

The blue drako snarled with frustration, stomping his left foot in the dirt so hard he left a giant footprint. He folded his arms and scowled, shortly before he abruptly turned to his left and spat in Marrox’s face. The orc grunted as he felt the warm saliva running down his face, and he gritted his teeth as the red drako stepped over to him and exhaled.

“I apologize. My _younger_ brother still doesn’t know his place.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slaughter both of you.”

“First off, our soldiers will notice we’ve gone missing for too long and come find us. And then they’ll find you. Secondly…”

The red drako blinked twice and smiled as he set his bow around his back. He wasn’t grinning toothily or wickedly like Gilennes was when Marrox first encountered him, but he still sensed malicious intent behind his facial expression. The reptile shoved the stilio to the ground, the beast covered in smooth light yellow scales. His feet were tied together, and his hands were bound behind his back.

“Here your other answer.”

“That’s a walking, talking lizard, same as you,” Marrox replied.

“No! We’re walking, talking _dragons_ , orc! Don’t you fuckin’ confuse the two!” Gilennes snarled.

Marrox chuckled. “I’m sorry. It’s like looking at alligators and crocodiles. Not my fault you two look so damn similar.”

Gilennes opened his mouth, but the red drako held up a hand, signaling him to be quiet. “This ‘lizard’ is not worthy. He is not strong. He should not exist. Same as those stilios hanging up in that tree over there. We drakos are superior. We _always_ will be. Unlike this refuse in front of me, we _are_ descendants of dragons.”

“Okay good. Your race can breathe fire and theirs can’t. So what?” Marrox asked.

The red drako blinked. “You’re an orc. You know what that’s like…that feeling of insecurity. That itch going down your spine, that bothersome odor just lingering whenever you walk into a room. It’s so…insignificant, but you _know_ it’s there, and it’s constantly bothering you.”

“Don’t compare me—”

“No, I will, orc. I know all about your kind and how you operate.”

“Not _every_ orc runs around committing genocide. Just because orcs like King Torgash and Emperor Sok’vlak did don’t mean shit.”

“So you’ve no desire to slay this stilio right here?”

Marrox looked down at the yellow beast. He wasn’t even attempting to escape or plea for mercy. From the looks of it, he knew he was dead either way and was just waiting to see who would do him in. Marrox kept gripping his axe, all while Gilennes circled around him blowing smoke from his maw. The red drako’s smile grew wider, and Marrox could see that malevolent grin now.

“It’s in your blood. It’s in all our blood. We’re all animals. We’re all killers. This is what we do.”

_He’s right, you know. You’re a killer. An animal. Just because you changed now don’t mean that feeling ain’t there._

“I’m not going to kill for you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I want you to kill for _you_. …I see those faint sparks in your eyes. You _want_ to do it. You’re just telling yourself not to.”

The red drako’s nostrils widened as he folded his arms. “I know you think there are ‘morals’ and ‘rules,’ but…why? Why restrain yourself? Why abide by these rules? It’s no different from locking a wild animal in a cage. So what if it’s dangerous? It was _born_ to be dangerous. Let it roam free and act upon its instincts.”

Marrox coughed a few times and felt his chest tightening. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Elaborate.”

“Animals do not outright _murder_ other animals for fun and games. Animals do not commit _genocide_. They kill other animals for prey, for territory. They do it for survival!”

“Precisely. Territory. These stilios are intruding upon drako territories. They’re constantly thriving, and we must put an end to it.”

“You mistake me for a fool. I know how easy it is to twist your words to make others believe your cruel agendas. You don’t care about preserving your race, about maintaining your culture, about the future of your kind. You just hate stilios, and you’re smart enough to manipulate other people into believing you so you can justify exterminating an entire race!”

Gilennes snarled and shook his head. “Let me kill this orc, Angus. He’s _far_ too smart for his own good!”

The red drako smiled. “Yes…yes, he is.”

Marrox coughed a few more times and grunted as he shook his head, watching as the drakos stayed on their guard, waiting for the orc to attack.

“How long has it been, orc? Since you’ve killed someone? Since you’ve last fornicated?” Gilennes asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I wanna see you do it again! I’ve seen you orcs when you fight, when you fuck! Your kind is so _boisterous_ , y’know?”

Gilennes started drooling uncontrollably; he slurped as he licked his choppers and pointed at the stilio. “Fuck him. I wanna see you fuck him! I wanna hear you moan as you plunge your fat cock into his ass!”

Marrox looked down at the stilio, still wondering why he wasn’t protesting or even attempting to say anything. He just breathed softly and kept staring at the ground, fascinated by the soil. Marrox glared at Gilennes and snorted.

“I don’t fuck males.”

“You don’t gotta be a faggot to fuck males. FUCK HIM! I WANNA SEE YOU FUCK HIM!”

Angus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Gilennes…”

“NO!” he snarled, still drooling. “Let me have this, brother! I haven’t seen an orc fuck someone in so long!”

Angus opened his eyes again and snorted. “You’ll have to excuse my _younger_ brother. Obviously he’s still a hatchling.”

Gilennes kicked up some dirt in frustration and spat in Angus’ direction. “Fuck you.”

After Angus shook his head and Gilennes leaned against a tree with his arms folded, the red drako smiled again. Marrox groaned, his stomach churning and his heart feeling like it was slowly getting set on fire. He coughed and spat on the ground, wiping his mouth off, before he looked up at Angus and saw him pull out a dagger. Just before Marrox could approach the stilio and stop Angus, the drako grabbed the stilio by his chin and jerked his head upwards, exposing his throat. He placed the dagger against the lizard’s scaly neck.

“Perhaps I should jog your memory. Once you see this blood flowing, it’ll remind you of what you are.”

Marrox huffed as he looked at the stilio. “Just relax. I’m gonna—”

“They’re massacred my village,” the stilio suddenly said. “They hung my sisters. They murdered my child with their fiery breath.”

Marrox’s eyes widened as he looked at the stilio. He saw that look in his eyes and recognized it instantly: despair.

“At least I’ll see them again…”

Gritting his teeth, Marrox raised his axe and stomped forward. “DON’T YOU FUCKING—”

Angus slit the lizard’s throat. There was no screaming, no crying out in desperation. The stilio just stayed still as blood flowed down his chest and stomach, staining his clothing. Everyone listened to the blood softly oozing from the large wound and the faint gurgles coming from the stilio, moments before the stilio closed his eyes. Angus shoved his body forward, and Marrox backed away, disgusted. Angus licked the blood off his knife before blinking and glaring at the orc.

“Did you enjoy that?” Angus asked.

_More. I want more_ , Marrox thought.

“Wasn’t that incredible, orc? All that blood just oozing out…just staining his clothing so easily?”

_I can smell it. I can taste it in the wind. More._

“Doesn’t the sight of that just warm your loins? I know you orcs tend to become aroused by such acts…I don’t blame you. Violence and sex are so closely related. The thought of dominating your enemies so _easily_ and caressing yourself in all of their fluids…”

_You had so much fun, Marrox. So much fun ripping all of those people to shreds…all that blood…all that seed…_

Marrox shuddered. “Shut up…”

Gilennes giggled as he pointed at the orc’s groin. “LOOK! LOOK, BROTHER! He’s pondering; he’s remembering those lustful desires! Look at how aroused he is!”

_They’re fuckin’ with you, Marrox. You’re better than this. You know you are._

Angus walked up to Marrox, chuckling when he spotted the bulge that was forming in Marrox’s trousers. “You know, both of us have been looking for more mercenaries. If there’s one thing the Lowcryx brothers need, it’s more beasts like you.”

_You can’t do this, Marrox…you’re better than this._

_…All that blood…I could have it all again…back in my prime…_

“Why wouldn’t you want to join us? We could get you a nice suit of armor, better weapons…more people to kill. That’s all you want, right? To experience that hellish, adrenaline-fueled lifestyle on the battlefield. All your foes will be scaly, of course. But I’m sure you have no problem with that.”

Marrox still felt weak. It would be easier just to go along with everything, to nod his head and comply to all of this drako’s demands. His legs shook slightly as he felt more sour fluids coming up his throat. The orc huffed and swallowed a few times, coughing and feeling saliva running down his mouth. Angus smirked as he reached forward and extended his hand.

“Whaddya say, partner?”

Marrox scowled as he looked at Angus’ red hand and black claws. He spat on the palm of the drako’s hand, and Angus grimaced when he noticed the orc’s saliva was black. Marrox approached Angus and started to raise his axe.

“You fucking…I’m not…”

Two hard coughs erupted from Marrox’s mouth, enough for his hands to shake a bit. He lowered his axe and started to cough so hard that he couldn’t concentrate. He could feel his vision watering from all the phlegm and other fluids that were clogging his throat and nasal cavity. As he coughed, more black fluids spewed from Marrox’s mouth, and the orc huffed and gasped, struggling to breathe. Gilennes was about to attack the orc when Angus held up a hand, signaling him to stop. The Lowcryx brothers stood by and watched as Marrox’s axe fell to the ground. The orc gurgled as he grabbed his throat, looking and sounding like he was choking to death. Before Marrox had time to steady himself, he collapsed to his hands and knees, where he gagged several times and released a large amount of black fluids into the soil. Angus backed aware cautiously, mere seconds before Marrox violently threw up all over the ground. Gilennes scowled and groaned as he backed away, while Angus stared at the black and green bile composed of half-digested food. He leaned down and sniffed the bile, while Marrox gasped and slowly rolled onto his back as he clutched his chest. Angus licked his choppers and grinned.

“You’re dying,” he concluded.

Marrox didn’t have enough energy to even insult the drako. Gilennes, meanwhile, stomped towards the orc, ready to slice him apart with his claws.

“Let me kill him, brother! He’s of no use to us now; we must dispose of him!”

“No,” Angus said, walking over to Marrox and crouching down. “There’s no point. Judging from how rotten the bile smells and the color, I’m guessing half of your internal organs have either ruptured or ceased to function. You wake up in constant pain every morning, don’t you?”

Marrox didn’t answer. He just gasped and wheezed, struggling to stay conscious. But at this point, he couldn’t even muster enough energy to jerk his head upwards so he could bite the draconic creature.

“Hmph. I _should_ let my brother kill you, just to make sure you don’t tell anyone about us. But who would believe you? I mean, you’re an orc anyways. And even if anyone did believe you, I doubt you’ll survive to next morning.”

Angus exhaled and shook his head. “Such a shame. You would’ve been such a wonderful asset for my army—”

“ _OUR_ ARMY!” Gilennes corrected.

Angus looked up at Gilennes and blinked. “That’s what I said: my army.”

The red drako looked back down at Marrox. “As for you…think I’ll just leave you here. If we killed you here, you’d be a martyr, or a hero, or whatever you fallen orcs are called. Everyone will see that you died ‘courageously’ or ‘died fighting.’ And given how rudely you’ve treated the two of us, I can’t allow that.”

Angus stood up and exhaled, straightening out his vest. “Everyone will look at you and see that you died alone, that you grew old and became sick. Your legacy won’t be of the valiant warrior whose name struck fear into the hearts of giants. Nah…no, you will be known as the orc who lost sight of who he was, and ultimately died with shit running down his legs and vomit splattered all over his chest.”

Marrox was having trouble breathing properly; he wasn’t sure if his lungs still functioned anymore. As he grew weaker and weaker, his vision started to fade, and the noises around him were muffled. He was able to make out some of Angus’ words as he beckoned Gilennes to follow him. Gilennes spitefully spat all over Marrox’s face and laughed at him, moments before both drakos abandoned the orc. Then Marrox closed his eyes, and he waited for Death to claim him.

Until he woke up again several hours later, long after the sun had fallen. The orc groaned as he sat up, still tasting bile in his mouth. Luckily, no one else had come along and mutilated his body or stole any of his belongings. Nevertheless, he was still embarrassed and ashamed over the whole ordeal.

“Fuckers,” Marrox snarled as he reached over and picked up his axe. “Shoulda killed ‘em…shoulda fuckin’ cut ‘em in two…shoulda saved that stilio…”

It was incomprehensible. He could’ve taken them. He should have. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed both of them, but he doubted that Gilennes knew how to properly defend himself without his brother’s aid, especially since his only weapons were his claws, teeth, and fire breath. And yet, Marrox froze. He kept wondering what would’ve happened if he submitted, if he _should_ have submitted. He kept thinking about how much he enjoyed watching the stilio die…how he _hated_ himself for feeling that way. He could’ve shaken the drako’s hand, could’ve been their mercenary, their personal butcher.

_You could’ve had it all back, Marrox…_

Marrox closed his eyes and placed a hand against his forehead. He kept pondering silently, murmuring on occasion, trying not to have horrid flashbacks to when he fought in Kosslivo. But as he pondered, only one name kept coming back into his memory. And once Marrox remembered the name, he opened his eyes, stood up, and resumed his journey. Maybe he was going to die by morning. Maybe he would die alone and in a pool of vomit. But he had been putting this off for long enough.

He had to go see Margoth.

___________________________________

He spent a few more days walking until he finally reached the farms. Marrox discovered the community of half-orcs Mulvernt told him about, and after enough probing and asking around, he discovered Margoth’s location. But the location in question shouldn’t be real. It should’ve only existed in Marrox’s dreams. When the orc exited the woods, he spotted various fields that spanned for many miles. The orc wasn’t even close to some of the residences, but he could already tell that some of the owners were growing corn in fields someone could get lost in. A couple of the fields had nothing but fences around them and were massive, while others were smaller and had some kind of silo, house, or barn built behind all the plantations and within the owners’ front yards. Marrox coughed a few times and spat black phlegm on the soil before he walked down an incline and ventured away from the woods. The orc found himself smiling for a change, happy that such a place existed and was being run by half-orcs, of all races. He came across someone’s open yard and spotted a male half-orc with short black hair crouching down as he uprooted carrots from the soil, while another field was being overlooked by an aging couple who were sitting on the front porch relaxing in front of their house. Both of them saw Marrox walking through a dirt path and nodded at him, while Marrox nodded back.

Part of Marrox was tempted to stop at some of these houses just so he could chat with a few of the half-orcs, but he had only one destination. Marrox resumed wandering past all the plantations and houses until he finally found a small home built only a few yards away from a light green barn. The orc double-checked to see if the field in front of the house was sprouting cabbage, and it was. So Marrox entered the premises and walked over to the house, opening up the owner’s gate and stepping out into the front yard. The green orc could see that the owner had a small garden built in front of the house as well, most of which consisted of some orchids and lilies. The house itself was built on sturdy foundation and had two floors instead of one. Exhaling, Marrox approached the house and looked through some of the windows, checking to see where the owner was. He could see furniture and dishes inside, and some recently-picked cabbage was sitting on the counter in the kitchen. After looking through the windows, Marrox searched around the side of the house after hearing clothes rustling in the breeze. Then he smiled widely.

A young half-orc was grunting as she took various garments off a clothing line held down by two wooden posts. Marrox observed the half-orc folding the laundry and stuffing it all into a basket. He gazed at her black hair that had been braided and tied behind her head, the loose-fitting yellow blouse that looked a bit torn, and the long brown pants that almost covered her feet. She was barefooted and wore no gloves like several other half-orcs Marrox saw, and just like the other half-orcs, this one had more of a human body. Her tusks were much smaller, her skin was smoother and paler, and her body wasn’t as muscular as an orc’s body. If it hadn’t been for her green skin and teeth, she would’ve been mistaken for a human. When the half-orc finished taking down the laundry, she turned and spotted Marrox. Instinctively, she reached for the dirk strapped to the left side of her waist and began to pop it out of its holster, frowning. Marrox chuckled and backed away.

“Relax…didn’t mean to scare you,” Marrox said.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t intrude on one’s territory without being invited first.”

“My apologies…I was merely looking for someone. You’re Margoth Galatt, yes?”

“Yes. …You’re not one of my usual customers though. This your first time coming here?”

“Yeah.” Marrox cleared his throat and rubbed his scalp. “May we talk inside? It’s…we have important matters to discuss.”

Margoth rolled her eyes and huffed. “Please tell me there aren’t _another_ gang of goblins roaming around trying to steal our crops.”

“No, it’s…let’s just go inside, please.”

Marrox could tell that Margoth was still suspicious of him, but she lightened up and nodded. After picking up the basket full of clothes, she guided Marrox to the front door of the house and led him inside. Marrox stood by the entrance while Margoth wandered into another room and set down her basket of clothes.

“Did you want some water, traveler? Maybe some carrots or cabbage before you head out?”

Margoth entered the living room again and chuckled as she straightened out her hair. “Hasn’t been selling as much as I wanted this season. Damn near _giving_ some of this cabbage away.”

“No, thank you. I just wanted to talk,” Marrox said, before he ducked beneath a doorframe and entered the kitchen.

Margoth followed the burly orc inside and stood near a long table that had a glass of water on it. As Margoth drank from the glass, Marrox looked up at the ceiling and at the walls, smiling again and letting out a soft whimpering noise.

“You made this…you… _this_ is who you are…”

Margoth blinked and shrugged. “Well, yeah. Someone has to grow all these crops, right?”

“You don’t understand. You’ve orc blood in you and _this_ is what you’re doing.”

“Only half of that blood is orc. The other’s human. No reason why someone like me can’t spend their life away from fighting all the time, something my father couldn’t comprehend.”

Marrox felt his eyes watering. “Yes, yes…your father was…he was a horrible person…he…tch.”

The green orc leaned against the wall and chuckled. “Centaurs. Gnolls. Goblins. Trolls. Fuckin’ werewolves riding dragons. I’ve faced ‘em all without a care in the world, without a shred of fear in my bones. Yet _this_ is what scares me.”

Margoth raised an eyebrow. “What, explaining to me who my father was? I assure you, you won’t hurt my feelings. If _anything_ I heard about my father is true, then he’s better off dead.”

“Except he isn’t dead, Margoth.”

The half-orc scoffed. “That’s a lie. My father died when all those orcs rebelled in Kosslivo. Even if he wasn’t dead, I’m sure he’s off burning more villages to the ground and fighting another war.”

“Actually, no.” Marrox paused. “He’s standing in front of you.”


	6. Her

She was stunned. Of course she would be, especially given what Marrox just told her. Still, Marrox was unprepared when he noticed that she looked more terrified than happy or relieved. It only took a matter of seconds for the cautious, but affable half-orc who greeted him and willingly let him into her house to turn into a protective homeowner who was ready to kill a hostile intruder. She moved her hand to her side, and Marrox noticed that she was reaching for her dirk again, ready to pull it out. Marrox held up his hands.

“Please…please. I-I’m…I bear no malicious intent. I just…I just wanted to see you,” Marrox said softly.

“Get out,” she said, her voice soft but full of venom. “You’re not my father. He’s dead. He has to be.”

Marrox shook his head. “No. I’m right here.”

“That’s impossible. He died during the Uprising! He and all of King Torgash’s allies were killed during—”

“I wasn’t there, Margoth. I wasn’t in Kosslivo. By the time I returned, it was already over. King Torgash was dead. The rebels won. The kingdom was already changing. I…”

Marrox looked down at the floor for a moment before he coughed four times and sniffled. “I tried to find you, but…they already took you somewhere else…someplace safe. Guess they didn’t want the infants slaughtered during the chaos.”

Margoth huffed as she let go of her dirk’s handle and sat down at the table. She let out a shaky breath as she pressed a few fingers against her forehead, her hand shaking. Marrox slowly sat down across from her.

“Honey…I’m here now. I know—”

“Shut up,” she snarled. “You can’t just come in my life…I’ve been—” Margoth stammered. “Answers. Now. What have you been doing this whole time? Where the hell were you? How come you never came to see me?!”

Marrox blinked. “Well…where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing doesn’t really matter at this point. As for why I never saw you…” Marrox sighed. “Margoth, everyone knew who I was in Kosslivo. _Everyone_. They called me ‘the Butcher.’ Not original, I know, but I don’t need to tell you why. What do you think would happen if Marrox the Butcher came to your adopted parents’ house wanting to speak to his daughter?”

Margoth huffed. “Right. That explains…wait. _Wait_. So then…oh gods. Everything…everything I heard about you growing up…”

The half-orc blinked as she looked up at Marrox with watery eyes and slowly shook her head. “No. You-you were…you weren’t…you were just a soldier. You…you didn’t. You didn’t. I know you didn’t.”

Marrox thought time itself had frozen. It seemed like the entire universe was waiting for the burly orc to reply. He wasn’t sure how long it was before he finally spoke. When he did, he had to force the word out of his mouth.

“Yes,” he grumbled. “It’s all true.”

“ _What’s_ true, Father?” Margoth asked, her voice breaking. “What did you do?”

“We both know what I—”

“Then say it.”

Sighing, Marrox spread his fingers apart against the table. “I killed people. Hundreds. Maybe…maybe thousands. If King Torgash discovered traitorous orcs, they were executed. Some done by me, some by other executioners. I helped kidnap slaves. I…I tortured slaves. I raped slaves. Many times. It-it…”

Marrox could hear Margoth breathing heavily and whimpering. When he stared into her eyes, he could see that she was trying her hardest not to break down sobbing. And deep down, Marrox was doing the same. The orc rubbed his nose before he stammered.

“King Chorn Torgash was a savage, a-a tyrant! He-he wanted us to do this! He kept saying over and over that it was for the good of Kosslivo, that it was for the good of our horde, that one day we would all rule the world, and pass down our legacy from generation to generation! That’s what he wanted! He’d declare war with-with countries just because he could! He’s order thousands to be purged just so he had no other orcs to compete with! He-he would—I didn’t…I didn’t—I was…”

Marrox stopped. He listened to everything he was saying and saw his daughter gritting her teeth. The orc closed his eyes and took another deep breath. After he pondered for a long moment, the green orc let out a small chuckle as he rubbed his face. Then he opened his eyes and slammed his hand down, almost smirking afterwards.

“I did it ‘cause I wanted to,” Marrox admitted. “I did it ‘cause it felt good.”

“So…so what, you saying everything about King Torgash was a lie?”

“ _Hell_ no. That twat _was_ a savage. He _was_ a relentless, unholy beast who wanted everyone to abide by his laws and slaughtered anyone who so much as sneered at his kingdom. Did he allow us orcs to kill anyone we wanted? Sure. Did he allow slavery? Absolutely. Did he grin with delight when he saw soldiers like me participating in an orgy with all the unwilling slaves? Most definitely. Sometimes he even joined in.”

Marrox paused and rubbed his chin. “But Torgash didn’t force my hand all the time. He didn’t threaten to castrate me if I didn’t fight for him. He didn’t order me to murder children. He didn’t put a knife to my neck and told me to rape human slaves or else he’d cut my throat open. Hell, I recall many years ago when a battalion of orcs and I just finished raiding a village. I found some tiny kid hiding under bodies. The king walked right up to me and said, ‘he’s human. He’s not female. He’s useless.’ Then he turned his back and walked away.”

Marrox shrugged. “Coulda let the kid go. Coulda snuck the kid into the city and took care of him under everyone’s nose. But no. I took my axe, and I cut him in half. And I laughed afterwards.”

Margoth let out a gasping sob. She couldn’t take it any longer, and Marrox could see that. A couple tears ran down her green-skinned face, albeit she didn’t exactly break out into hysterical sobs. She sniffled multiple times, gasping and wiping her face, unable to comprehend everything her father was suddenly telling her, especially after showing up at her residence so abruptly.

“…What happened to Mother?” she asked softly.

“I killed her.”

Margoth scoffed and chuckled, as if she already knew. “Course you did. And I’m not an only child, am I?”

“Doubt it. There were…I lost count of the slaves I—”

“Stop,” Margoth said, holding up a hand. “Just…stop…”

Another long period of silence followed that mostly consisted of Margoth sniffling and breathing softly.

“…So this is what you do now. Even now, after all—”

“ _No_ ,” Marrox snarled. “I’m not like that anymore. I haven’t raped anyone in over a decade. I only kill when I absolutely have to.”

“Oh,” Margoth said, before sniffling and wiping more tears. “So you’re perfect now, huh? You’ve ‘changed’? You’re a fuckin’ saint now?”

Marrox looked away and peered down at the floor. “I don’t know what I am…”

“Why’d you stop? If you say you had so much fun doing all this, why give it up?”

A few coughs exploded from Marrox’s mouth. He paused as he coughed into his hand, groaning as he looked at the discolored saliva and phlegm that was on the palm of his meaty hand. He wiped the sludge against his trousers before continuing.

“Well…one night, I was drinking beer with one of my good buddies. We were doing the same shit as always, celebrating, sharin’ stories. Eventually, we both passed out. When I woke up the next morning, I found him sitting up against a log. Thought he was asleep, so I went over to go wake him up. But when I shook his body, he slumped over. It wasn’t until I saw him slouch onto the ground that I knew he was dead. To this day, I still don’t know what happened. Alcohol poisoning? Heart gave out? Aneurysm? Don’t know. When I informed the other orcs about his death as we were returning to Kosslivo, one of them said, ‘oh yeah, we know.’ And they just kept walking.”

Marrox sniffed and shook his head in disgust. “At that moment, I asked myself, ‘what am I doing?’ I never…never once asked that. I had my doubts, sure—who didn’t? But when I saw my friend die so abruptly, and saw how easily he was abandoned, something…something snapped. Some-some lantern turned on. I realized, finally, that I was nothing more than a spoke on a wagon wheel. Just-just a small component of a larger object that can easily be replaced if broken. When I came back to Kosslivo, everything _disgusted_ me. The stench of my orc brethren, the slaves being sold and raped, the orgies the orcs would have, all the sheer amount of death and decay…I just hated all of it.”

Marrox shrugged. “I left. Didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t know when I’d be back. I just left the kingdom to go…to…I just had to think. About everything. And once I came back, whoo-hoo. The Uprising happened. King Torgash is dead. Everyone is living in a peaceful, safer environment now that doesn’t constantly try to crush other nations for picayune reasons. I knew that there was nothing left for me in Kosslivo, so I left. Haven’t come back.”

“And you’ve…what have you done all this time?”

Marrox paused and thought for a moment before blinking. “Stuff. Y’know, eating, sleeping, drinking, shitting, masturbating. Saving people in need, killing people harming others, talking to haphazard people…just stuff. That’s-that’s it really…”

After taking in so much information, Margoth didn’t even seem upset anymore. She just looked exhausted, as if uncovering so much knowledge about her father drained her physically and mentally. The half-orc moaned as she rubbed her forehead and leaned against the table.

“Why now though? You’ve had all this time…why now?”

Sighing, Marrox slowly reached down into his pocket and pulled out his dagger. He looked at it for a brief moment, twirling the small weapon around in his hand, before he set it down on the table gently. Margoth flicked her eyes down at the dagger with disgust before glaring back up at Marrox, who broke out into a coughing fit again. He sniffled and wiped his mouth off with his arm, only to see more of the black fluids on his green skin. 

“I’m dying.”

Margoth opened her mouth, but Marrox finished for her.

“Doesn’t matter how it happened. There’s no cure for what I have. And even if there was, it’s too late for me. My heart’s already infected, and it’s spreading. Won’t be long now ‘til it hits my brain. Wouldn’t be surprised if I only got a few months left, maybe even a few weeks.”

Marrox looked at the dagger on the table again and pushed it closer to Margoth. She continued to stare at it.

“I won’t apologize. It doesn’t matter at this point…and I know you wouldn’t accept it anyway. I’ve done…terrible things. So many, awful, horrific—”

Margoth shouted as she whacked the dagger off the table, causing it to clatter on the floor. Gritting her teeth, the half-orc slammed her fists on the wooden furniture and snorted.

“No. You…you don’t get to sit there and lecture me about how ‘bad’ you feel, about how remorseful you are, about how you’re a changed person! You don’t get to sit there and tell me that all of a sudden you care about me _now_! And don’t you dare sit there and tell me to kill you! What, you think that if I stab you in the throat, it’s all fine? You think everything will be right with the world? You think you’ll finally be at peace?”

“I just thought—”

“No, Father, you didn’t think! At all! If you had, I wouldn’t even be here in the first place! I’m not even supposed to exist; you had to stick your cock in some poor woman just-just to fuel your own urges, just so you could have ‘fun’! My entire fucking life, everyone knew that my father was an asshole, that he raped some innocent human, that my mother was most likely a slave! You think I didn’t want to do what you’ve done? You think-you think I haven’t thought about just picking up a sword and just murdering anyone who pisses me off or just killing someone because I can?”

Margoth huffed and shook her head, trying to calm herself down. “Well, I have, Father. I could’ve easily turned into someone like you, someone like King Torgash. But I didn’t. I…I made something of myself. I learned how to defend myself, how to take care of myself, how to raise my own crops and animals, and I did it all without _you_. You’ve been gone all this time, missed out on me growing up—missed out on everything—and now that you’re dying, you think, what? I’ll pity you? I’ll just forget about all the shit you’ve done? You think _now_ is the proper time to barge into my life, long after I’ve already assumed you were dead?”

“If that’s really how you feel, why not just end it and be done with it?”

“Because if I kill you, I won’t be any better than you. Why would I murder an unarmed person in my house who has done nothing to me? And I do mean absolutely _nothing_. …You’re just some orc whose seed created a child. That’s it.”

Marrox swallowed after listening to the half-orc’s rant. He looked down at the dagger on the floor before looking back up at Margoth.

“So that’s…that-that’s it, huh? You just…that’s it.”

“Get out of my house. I won’t tell you again.”

There were plenty of other things that Marrox could say. There were plenty of things he wanted to do. Hug her, kiss her forehead, coddle her until she finally settled down—anything would’ve satisfied him at this point. But he knew if he continued to stay in her presence, he’d only hurt her even further. Marrox looked back down at the floor again and saw the dagger. He got up and promptly walked over to it, picking it up and stashing it into his pocket again. Still silent, he looked down at Margoth as she sat shuddering and refusing to look at him. So the burly orc turned around and headed for the front door, opening it slowly and taking a step outside. But as he opened the door, he noticed a cold chill outside, as if some malevolent entity was dragging its bony fingers against his spine. He couldn’t leave, not now, not when he had the opportunity to do _something_ with his daughter. So Marrox walked back into the kitchen and looked at Margoth, exhaling.

“If I walk out this door,” he said, his voice breaking slightly, “you won’t ever see me again.”

“Why would I want to?”

Right then, he knew. There was nothing else that could be done. Marrox stared at his daughter with watery eyes, and he could see that Margoth was in a similar position. And then he walked outside of the house and quietly closed the door. Once he was outside, he slowly peered through one of the front windows, where he spotted Margoth burying her head in her hands as she finally broke down. Marrox reached for the door handle, tempted to go back inside. But it was pointless, and he saw that now. So the burly orc turned around and walked away from the serene farm, hoping to erase the seemingly calm, yet dreadful view from his memory. He kept walking forward aimlessly, not caring which way he was going. Minutes turned to hours, and Marrox noticed that it was starting to get dark. After dragging his tired feet around the ground for a while, the orc broke out into another coughing fit. Once again, it was so violent that he collapsed to his hands and knees and started gagging and coughing. Suddenly, Marrox opened his mouth wide and emitted horrific gurgling noises as he vomited all over the ground. He coughed and wheezed, his chest in chronic pain, his head pounding, his lungs struggling to take in air. Marrox huffed and gasped as he stood back up, stumbling and whimpering as he clutched his chest with one hand.

And then the orc groaned as he collapsed again, landing on his side with a heavy thud. Marrox breathed quietly as his heartbeats began to slow down, and black dribble began to seep from between his jagged tusks.

_Kosslivo is saved…Torgash is dead…the kingdom’s safe now…_

Marrox wheezed twice before his eyelids became heavy and his breathing slowed down.

_Margoth…she…she made it…she’s safe. She’s happy…she’s at peace…_

Marrox exhaled softly as he shut his eyes and lay very still.

_I deserve this…it’s okay…it’s okay…stop fighting…_

_You can stop…it’s all right now…_


	7. Orc

He didn’t feel like opening his eyes, even though he knew he wasn’t dead yet. This time around, some unknown entity was constantly prodding him and whispering for him to wake up. Marrox grumbled as he felt someone repeatedly poking at his spine, and then at his scalp.

“Up. Up, orc. Dollik knows you’re alive. Dollik knows you’re faking.”

_Just leave, goddamn it. Stop fucking poking me._

Dollik stared at Marrox and scratched his bald, bumpy scalp before he looked at the orc’s nostrils. Seeing no other option, he used the stick he was carrying to carefully insert part of the wood into Marrox’s right nostril. Marrox noticed blockage in his nose and immediately snorted like a pig. The orc coughed and snorted multiple times before he grumbled and swatted at the air. Dollik backed away and smiled as Marrox groaned and slowly started to open his eyes. 

“Oh good! Good for orc! Dollik was scared for a moment there.”

As Marrox sat up, he exhaled, scowling as he tasted vomit in his dry mouth. The orc rubbed his head and rolled his tongue around his mouth before he spat on the ground a few times. When he looked to his left, he could see a three-foot-tall yellowish-orange goblin clad in long trousers and a ripped gray shirt with an open brown vest over it. Marrox scowled as he looked at the smiling beast, with his giant wart-covered nose, his massive pointy ears, and his dirty bare feet and chipped nails. The goblin chuckled as he blinked and yanked on Marrox’s black tunic.

“Dollik and orc must go now. C’mon, follow Dollik.”

Marrox snarled as he jerked his arm away from the goblin. He was already feeling horrible after what happened yesterday—physically and emotionally—and the stench of the goblin was not making anything better.

“Fuck off…just leave me,” Marrox grumbled.

“Oh, Dollik can’t do that! Orc’s body will rot. Orc’s body will decay, spread blood in grass. Not good. Not good for soil.”

Marrox coughed a few times and wiped his mouth. “Alone…leave me alone.”

Dollik shook his head. “Can’t do, orc! Dollik sees you’re sick. Dollik can’t leave orc alone.”

Dollik poked the orc in his neck a few more times. “Dollik lives in home! Self-built, it was—made by Dollik himself! Dollik is also great cook! Orc will love Dollik’s food!”

As Marrox groaned and leaned forward, still rubbing his head, he could feel his chest tightening with pain again. Part of him was just hoping his heart would explode spontaneously so he wouldn’t have to listen to this creature. When Marrox refused to respond, Dollik rubbed his big nose and crept closer to his giant head.

“Come with Dollik, orc. You won’t regret it!”

Marrox snorted and recoiled, scowling from the stench of the goblin’s breath. He looked down at Dollik again and grimaced, noticing that a few flies were hovering around his body, and that some of his yellow teeth were missing. Marrox felt like commenting on the beast’s odor, but he hadn’t washed or changed his clothes in months, so he knew he didn’t smell any fresher. Too exhausted to argue, Marrox exhaled and nodded.

“All right,” he grumbled. “Take me to your home.”

“Oh goody! Good for Dollik! Dollik can finally have company for the day!”

Grunting and standing up, Marrox looked down at the goblin as he began to walk through the forest. He rubbed his nose and dragged his heavy booted feet along the ground, sighing and wheezing as he followed the short beast through the woods. Marrox could tell that the sun had risen and was shining brightly, judging by the various beams of sunlight that appeared in the few holes within the forest’s canopy. He spotted a blue butterfly flapping its wings nearby and scowled, moments before he noticed a red squirrel skittering its way up a tree. Dollik stopped for a moment so he could grab a few pecans he found on the ground and stuffed them all into his pockets. The orc stopped as well so he could grab his canteen and drink what was left of his water. But as soon as he tilted the container upwards, he remembered with much annoyance that he consumed all of his water last night—and vomited it all back up on the ground minutes later. Frustrated, Marrox tore the canteen from his body and snarled as he tossed it as hard as he could against a tree. Dollik heard the container clatter as it smacked against the wood and disappeared beneath some of the leaves.

“Something wrong?”

Exhaling, Marrox shook his head. “Just keep walking. I’m behind you.”

“Okay!”

The duo resumed their journey, which eventually led out of the woods and into a large section of the forest consisting of hills and flat plains. Dollik scratched his bald head as he ascended a grassy hill and kicked up some dirt, while Marrox struggled to keep up and found himself huffing and sweating. He paused for a moment, almost falling over from exhaustion, hoping that his illness would finally take him. But he was merely tired, not on the verge of passing out or dying, like last night. Dollik noticed that the orc was having a difficult time keeping up, and he quickly rushed back and grabbed his left hand.

“No worries, orc. Dollik will help you!”

Marrox snarled as he jerked his hand away and huffed. “Keep going. I’ll make it.”

Dollik paused as he stared at Marrox, still concerned over the orc’s health. But eventually he turned back around and resumed going up the hill. Once they finally reached the top, Dollik and Marrox stopped walking. The goblin stretched out his arms and exhaled afterwards, while Marrox gazed down at the large hut sitting on flat terrain. In front of the hut looked like various different kinds of gardens growing all sorts of vegetables. The gardens weren’t several miles long, nor did they span throughout all of the terrain, but it was enough for one person to manage. It was evident that Dollik was living by himself and growing most of his food away from civilization.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, orc?”

“Marrox,” the orc wheezed. “Name’s Marrox.”

“Well, Marrox, we’re almost there! Come now, Dollik shall make you a hot meal!”

Marrox watched as Dollik began to walk down the hill. He didn’t join him. The burly orc stood by himself, breathing heavily as the pain in his chest returned. When the goblin noticed that Marrox wasn’t with him, he quickly turned back around and rushed up the hill, frowning once he saw that Marrox’s eyes were watering.

“What is wrong, Marrox? Dollik thought you wanted to join him.”

“You should’ve left me,” Marrox whimpered, before grabbing his head as he slowly sat down on the hill.

“Left you? What…Marrox—”

“You should’ve let me die…should’ve just let me die,” Marrox sobbed.

Dollik blinked as he walked up to the sniffling orc and sat down beside him. He curled his toes a few times before he looked down and started to pick at the grass.

“You don’t know who I am…you don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t…I don’t deserve any of this. I shouldn’t be alive; I shouldn’t be able to draw breath. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this…”

Dollik stopped picking at the grass and picked his nose instead, digging out some mucus and flicking it away. He looked back over at Marrox. “Hmm? Oh, Dollik apologizes. Dollik thought Marrox was talking, but all Dollik heard was cynical bullshit.”

Right then, Marrox hated Dollik and was tempted to knock all of the rotten teeth from his mouth. He scowled at the goblin and wiped away some of his tears.

“Fuck you. You don’t know what it’s like. You haven’t been through what I’ve been through.”

Dollik shrugged. “So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

“Dollik means, so what if Dollik hasn’t suffered the trials that Marrox went through? Has Marrox eaten a portabella mushroom simmered in horseradish sauce?”

“I—what? No—what does that have to do with anything?!”

“Oh? Well…guess Marrox doesn’t know what _Dollik_ has been through either, now does he?”

Marrox glared at Dollik when he noticed that the goblin was smirking at him. He scoffed and started to stand back up.

“Fuck you. Be an ignorant cunt for all I care. …I’m dying anyways. S’only a matter of time ‘fore my heart or my brain gives out.”

“Then Marrox should kill himself.”

Marrox stammered as he sat back down, caught off-guard by the goblin’s words. “What did you say to me?”

Dollik scratched his head in confusion. “Dollik said Marrox should kill himself.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Um…because Marrox is dying? Because Marrox just said that he shouldn’t be alive?”

“That doesn’t mean I should kill myself!”

The goblin turned his head in bewilderment and raised an eyebrow. “Um. Dollik doesn’t understand Marrox’s logic. Why would Marrox not _want_ to kill himself? He sounds like he’s in a lot of pain. He sounds like he _wants_ to die.”

“Yes, but…” Marrox huffed and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Dollik chuckled as he looked away from the orc and went back to ripping up grass blades. “Trust Dollik. Dollik understands plenty.”

“No, Dollik, you really don’t. If…if you’ve known what I’ve done…what I was capable of doing so many years ago—”

“Stop,” Dollik interrupted, before he looked at the orc and rubbed his chin. “Hmm…rather burly fellow Marrox is. And Dollik sees that dangerous axe on Marrox’s back. Dollik is going to guess: soldier?”

Marrox blinked. “Yes.”

“From where?”

Marrox exhaled. “Kosslivo.”

“Oh my! Dollik has been to Kosslivo before! Lots of brutish beasts there. Was a nice place and you orcs seemed crafted in the arts of brewery!”

“Wait…you’ve been to Kosslivo?”

“Just last season. Dollik is thinking about heading back.”

“You _want_ to head back?”

Dollik shrugged. “Why wouldn’t Dollik?”

Marrox paused before he looked away. “Kosslivo wasn’t the place it is today. Trust me; you did not want to even _walk_ near that kingdom two decades ago.”

“Yes, but today is today, look forward to tomorrow, and yesterday doesn’t matter.”

Marrox pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. “I’m getting rather irked by your constant riddles.”

“No riddles, Marrox! No riddles for orc. Just truth. As Marrox said, he was a soldier. Dollik’s mother told Dollik when he was a child that all soldiers, male and female, have two weapons.”

Dollik leaned over and looked at Marrox’s crotch. “Marrox is an orc. Something tells Dollik that he used _both_ of his weapons. Repeatedly. Is Dollik correct?”

Marrox didn’t answer. He looked away and grumbled, playing with the grass in the same manner as the goblin. When Dollik leaned back over, he gazed out at his garden and down at his hut. Both creatures listened to the birds chirping in the distance and felt the hot sun blazing down on their skin. Dollik looked at the ground and started digging into the dirt with his right index finger.

“If you know who… _what_ I am…then why are you still sitting here talking to me?”

“Dollik is lonely. Dollik…Dollik doesn’t have friends. People don’t like Dollik. They see that Dollik is a goblin. They tell him that he stinks, that he has bad breath, that he should spend more time digging for food out the garbage like ‘all the other filthy goblins.’ Even the goblins from Dollik’s own village treated Dollik this way.” Dollik suddenly huffed. “Dollik hates groups. Yes…yes, he does. He _despises_ them.”

“Why groups specifically?”

“When Dollik was younger, he…experimented. He experimented using rather gross materials. One day, after Dollik noticed he was losing his teeth and his gums were becoming horribly infected, he tried something…unorthodox.”

“What’d you do?”

“Dollik washed out his mouth with his own urine.”

Marrox, understandably, looked at Dollik with disgust and confusion. Dollik continued anyway.

“Dollik listens. Dollik reads. Dollik discovered that in some countries, people do this to whiten teeth and as a form of disinfection. Apparently some chemicals in urine help fight off the germs. So Dollik tried it. And it worked. Dollik noticed that other goblins were suffering from the same problem. So Dollik told them to do what Dollik did, and they did. And they thanked Dollik.”

“I don’t get it. So what happened?”

Dollik rubbed his chin. “A young goblin no older than ten found out about this. The goblin’s parents saw what he was doing…and unlike everyone else, this goblin was outright _drinking_ the urine. His parents were furious, and they demanded to know why he started doing this. So…the child told them. And his parents came for Dollik. And they said… _many_ hurtful things to Dollik.”

The goblin stopped again and blinked. “The parents…um. They wouldn’t stop talking. They said more hurtful comments. Then other goblins did the same. Next thing Dollik knows, Dollik is some…fetish-crazed, sacrilegious beast who…who gets aroused from watching other goblins—children especially—drinking urine.”

“That kind of logic is something a retard would come up with.”

“That is the point, Marrox. No one cared if it made sense. What matters is what people said. What matters is that no one individual was able to think for themselves, to ask their own questions, to bother looking into what _really_ happened. So Dollik had to defend himself…and he couldn’t. So…Dollik left. And now Dollik lives alone.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Dollik smiled and started picking crude from between his toes. “Don’t be. You’ve done nothing harmful to Dollik.”

“This still doesn’t explain why you still talk to me. Don’t you think I’m dangerous?”

“Yes. Dollik also believes that everyone in the whole world is vile, stinky, and disgusting.”

Marrox chuckled. “You just told me you rinse out your mouth with piss; I can’t agree with you.”

“Then Marrox is a hypocrite.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, Marrox. Regular shit! Every animal on this planet, every race ranging from goblins to orcs to gnolls to satyrs…they all have posteriors. They have anuses. Anuses are designed to release waste. Anuses stink. Flatulence makes a comical rude noise. Shit smells vile and looks revolting. Every day, animals release flatulence. Every day, animals all around the world release shit. And shit is a disgusting, smelly compound. But everyone defecates. Therefore, everyone on this planet is disgusting.”

Dollik smiled as he looked at Marrox. “And Dollik is okay with that.”

“…Huh. Well…you goblins…you goblins sure do have…odd logic.”

“Not odd, Marrox. Just different.”

“Well, different or not, sounds like you’re happy out here…seems like your past hasn’t caught up with you.”

“Because it happened already. Why would something that happened before come back? It happen _ed_. It took place already. Why should Dollik care about the past now when he needs to focus on the present and future?”

Marrox opened his mouth, but Dollik held up a finger so he could continue. “Marrox. Let Dollik ask Marrox something. As a soldier…Marrox killed, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And Marrox raped, yes?”

He had to pause for a moment, but eventually, Marrox said, “Yes.”

“Are you raping now?”

“No.”

“Are you killing now?”

“No.”

“Okay then.”

Dollik kept smiling as he resumed playing with the grass. Marrox shook his head as he exhaled and coughed.

“World’s not that simple, Dollik.”

“It needs to be. Dollik doesn’t understand why it isn’t. Maybe if it was, so many people in this world wouldn’t be so angry, so sad. …Maybe people in this world wouldn’t be wasting their time arguing over rules and laws or fighting each other over territory or different ideals. Dollik wishes that people would wake up every morning and just be happy that they’re _awake_.”

Marrox didn’t respond. All these times he hated himself for being alive to begin with, and now here this goblin was lecturing him about how people take life for granted. The orc flicked his eyes at Dollik a few times before he cleared his throat, feeling more phlegm in his system. He listened to more birds in the distance and felt warm wind blowing against his body and making the leaves in the trees rustle behind him. After a very long silence, Marrox swallowed hard and turned to look at the goblin again.

“Dollik.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t…don’t lie to me about this. I know you don’t know what I’ve done, and you probably don’t care to know. But I just…I’m just not…I need to know, Dollik. When you look at me, what do you see? You see a monster, a rapist, a killer? Do you see a beast running from his past, or some dying bastard who’s getting what’s coming to him? Do you see someone trying to atone for his sins, someone trying to fix everything he fucked up in life?”

Marrox paused before he finished. “Do you see a good person? Or do you see an evil person? Please…don’t lie to me.”

Dollik turned and looked a Marrox. He sized up the orc, staring at his scarred face, his messy, stained clothes, his burly muscles, his big teeth, and his deadly axe. After thinking for a mere few seconds, Dollik smiled widely and answered.

“Dollik sees an orc. His name’s Marrox.”

Marrox didn’t say anything. He just looked at the goblin for a while before he turned away. He thought he’d be angry at the goblin, ready to punch him for not properly answering his question. But something about Dollik’s reply put the orc at peace. It almost seemed like everything he had been fretting over and overthinking for the past several weeks, let alone months, was starting to die down. The orc coughed a few more times before he clutched his chest, and was reminded that he didn’t have long to live. He might not even wake up tomorrow. But as he pondered, he gazed out in the distance at Dollik’s garden. He listened to the birds chirping around him, looked up and could see that clouds were filling a blue sky. He thought back to his daughter, how despite everything she had been through, she grew up and made a life for herself. He thought about what Dollik told him, about how he willingly traveled to Kosslivo, and was so impressed by the kingdom that he considered going back. Marrox listened to Dollik as he sighed and wiggled his toes.

“It’s a nice day today,” Dollik suddenly said.

“Yes,” Marrox said, as he blinked and smiled.

“Yes, it is.”


End file.
